And So It Goes
by CaramelWillow
Summary: Who knew that one of Harry Potter's best friends, a member of the "Golden Quartet" would turn out to be the Dark Lord's only daughter?  A story in-conjunction with "Bella's Story" focusing on Draco's experience and growth in loving Arabella Riddle.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__** I do not own anything Harry Potter—that's J.K. Rowling's. I am responsible for Bella and some of the peculiar events surrounding her existence.**_

I. Secrets and Names

He sat on the dark leather of the smaller of the two rather grandiose couches in the common room. He propped his feet up on the coffee table as usual, not bothering to take his shoes off. The idiosyncratic sneer he was known for graced his features, but not due to the conversation topic. In all actuality, he had no idea what his fellow Fourth Years were talking about, but he had a pretty good idea it had something to do with the final task. That's what everyone was talking about anymore. The sneer was only there to make it look like he was listening. Draco Malfoy, however, was lost in his own thoughts.

The image of Harry Potter returning to the entrance of the maze, battered, bruised, bleeding, and clutching a cold, dead Cedric Diggory wasn't easily lost from his memory. It was shocking at first. No one knew what had happened. But as word spread that Diggory was dead—really dead—panic set in. It took all of the professors and prefects to keep the younger students in order and to shuttle them back to their dormitories. Potter had disappeared almost instantly upon arrival, apparently swept away by Professor Moody. But rumor had it Professor Moody was an impostor using Polyjuice. So much for security at Hogwarts, the most secure place in all of Great Britain. Draco mentally scoffed. The Manor was so much safer.

That wasn't the only peculiarity that had taken place last night. As usual, it had taken Draco only a few seconds of scanning the large crowd of students to find the long blond hair and angelic smile of a certain Gryffindor. Consciously, he didn't go looking for her, but somehow it had become a habit he couldn't control. He didn't know when he had started caring, but he always looked for her in the crowds at Quidditch games as he flew back and forth, presumably looking for the golden snitch instead. He always kept his eyes pealed at meals, waiting for her entrance and watching her interact with her friends, secretly hoping she would look his way to see how he interacted with his own. In classes he tried to arrive just after she did to claim a seat in the row behind her. That way he could hear her conversations with friends and watch her without anyone noticing. When did he finally figure out what he was doing? He wasn't quite sure. He did know when he put a name to it, thought. tWhen he saw her walk down the steps on that baffoon Longbottom's arm for the Yule Ball, it was like he had been punched in the gut. All of the air escaped his lungs and he fought to breathe. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her in those silky crimson robes that brought out the natural rosy color of her cheeks. And from that moment on, he knew that he fancied her. _Really_ fancied her. And that wasn't okay. She wasn't a Pureblood—heck, no one even knew who her parents were! So, naturally, he began plotting how to get her to fancy him back. Not with the intention of entering a legitimate relationship with her, of course, but rather so that he could have the opportunity to drive her as crazy as she drove him. Other than that, she was untouchable, being the best friend of Bloody St. Potter. Draco's sneer deepened.

"Everything okay, Drakie?" Pansy cooed.

Draco waved her away, "Fine. What were you saying Blaise?"

Once Zabini began talking again, Draco returned to his thoughts. That's where stealing her shoes and breaking the glass so she'd step and cut her foot at the Yule Ball came in. Somehow he had deluded himself into thinking that if he could just swoop in when she was isolated from her friends and rescue her, she would surely fall for him then. Only, it hadn't worked. In fact, it had royally backfired into one of the rare occasions in which she actually insulted him. She usually kept it pretty neutral, aiming to play peacekeeper among the Slytherins and Gryffindors. She had her opinions, but she didn't force them upon anyone else. And she just wanted everyone to be respectful and get along. Hmph. _Mudbloods don't deserve respect,_ Draco thought, crossing his arms and sinking deeper into the cushion. As he heard mention of the magical maze, Draco was reminded of where his trailing thoughts had begun: finding Bella in the crowd at the third task. It hadn't taken long. She was sitting with Granger behind the Weasleys, who had come out to to play the part of "family" to Potter. She stood, smiling and chatting with Granger and Weaselette, seemingly joyful. But the wringing of her hands betrayed her anxiety and fear for Potter. Every now and then, Draco would steal a glance back at her, trying not to be too obvious as he turned his body away from his friends. But then suddenly, when the only two left in the maze were Potter and Diggory, Bella disappeared. Draco looked back several times, even once noticing Granger and Weaselette searching the crowd for her as well. Vanished. It didn't keep him from searching the crowd several more times for her before the Hogwarts champions finally returned from their misadventures and all hell broke loose.

Draco was pulled from his thoughts once more by his friends.

"Malfoy, what do you think happened in there?" Goyle asked him, indicating the maze.

"I already told you, Goyle," Draco grumbled for at least the third time, "I don't know anything more than the rest of the school."

Goyle gave him a blank look.

Draco sighed, "Diggory's dead. Potter-" he made sure to spit the name out with as much venom as possible, "-is somehow still a hero, and Bel—" he cough to cover his mistake, "No Name somehow ended up in the hospital wing this morning." He never used Bella's real name, but rather his nickname for her, No Nam, which made sure to highlight her lack of surname.

What Draco didn't—couldn't—tell his best mates was that he had, in fact, received a cryptic letter from his father this morning. Cryptic, yes, but not lacking in details. Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini asking incessant questions just kindled the fire of the burning secret he was carrying.

The Dark Lord had returned.

And Draco, remembered triumphantly, there was no reason for him to feel guilty about fancying Bella. No reason _not_ to make her fall for him, either. Not anymore. For her disappearance at the third task had also been explained by his father. Draco's sneer transformed into a rare smirk of smug contentment as his body visibly relaxed.

The Dark Lord's return had coincided with the discovery of Bella's familial past. Oh, yes. The orphaned witch of unknown origins suddenly had a father. Little Miss No Name suddenly had a name: Arabella Rose Riddle.

_A/N: This is a story in conjunction with "Bella's Story," which I don't __**think **__you'll need to have read to understand this story. Thanks to the readers who suggest I take Bella's Story from Draco's POV. I know this isn't first person Draco, but it is omniscient Draco—so I hope we get a better idea of what is going on with him. Sorry it's so short, but I'm already working on the next chapter! Please Read and Review! Xoxox, CW_

_The title of the story is from the title of the song by Billy Joel. _


	2. Chapter 2

_**Discalimer:**** Everything Harry Potter related belongs to JK Rowling. Arabella is my creation.**_

II. Another End, Another Beginning

Everyday that week, Draco couldn't keep himself from looking up every time someone entered the Great Hall. Sunday morning, the one day a week where the majority of the students don't come down to breakfast, choosing to sleep in instead, she walked in, her arm linked with Granger's. They entered slowly, behind the two boys who were talking animatedly. She looked more dead than alive. In fact, Draco didn't think she had ever looked so dejected. And Granger just kept patting her hand, guiding her forward. There had been absolutely no chatter about her. All focus had converged onto Diggory's death. Draco knew that he was one of the very few who had noticed her vanish during the Third Task. Even fewer knew she had spent the morning after in the Hospital Wing, though not even he knew the details of her return after spending most of the night at Malfoy Manor. As far as Draco could tell, she had been hiding away in Gryffindor Tower since her return, not wanting to come down and face the school. But the truth was, no one had really heard the news. No one had been told the Dark Lord had returned, save the few who knew Potter and Bella well. No one knew she was his daughter, save the few that had received letters from Death Eater parents. It was still one big hushed-up secret. He wondered how her friends would react when they found out. _How _would they find out? What did _St. Potter_ think about it all? Of course _he _knew, and surely he understood the underlying implications of that truth. His best friend, the daughter of his enemy. How ironic.

Draco watched the group as they sat down, the boys across from the girls. Bella poured herself some tea, but didn't touch the food in front of her. A silent tear rolled down her cheek and under her chin. When it fell to the table top, she gracefully wiped it away with her pointer finger. He watched, riveted as Granger scooped some oatmeal into a bowl, not really taking her eyes off of her friend. She looked pointedly at Potter.

"Draco. What are you _looking_ at?" Zabini pulled Draco away from his sight-seeing.

"Wha—oh, nothing."

Draco returned to the topic of conversation at the Slytherin table. Everyone was wondering what they were going to do until the end of term. Classes had been canceled, and so had the exams. He was thankful he was neither a Fifth nor a Seventh Year. Having the OWLs or NEWTs rescheduled would be the worst testing experience ever. After a few minutes of forcing himself to participate in the conversation at hand, he looked back towards the Golden Quartet. Potter was trying to coax Arabella into eating a piece of toast. So, it seemed, he _didn't _care about her origins. Draco's face pulled into a frown. Could the shock of the news really be causing her so much grief she wasn't eating? No wonder her cheeks had lost their color. No wonder her friends looked so concerned. Strange how perspective and upbringing make such a difference. Any one of his friends—any one of the Slytherins—would be ecstatic if they found out the Dark Lord was their father. Well, perhaps not _ecstatic, _but they wouldn't be depressed, and they would definitely be lording it over everyone else.

"Thank goodness it's almost the summer holidays," Draco muttered, not realizing he was doing so aloud.

"Here! Here!" came the agreement from Zabini and Nott. What they didn't know was that the real reason Draco was grateful for the holidays was really for Bella's mental health rather than the break from school work.

It was then that the post arrived. Everyone looked up. Swooping down toward Draco was his father's owl, Malachi. Draco quickly took the note from the leg of the owl and gave the bird the rest of his toast, which he devoured before taking off again. Draco looked back to his letter, but a completely black owl caught his eye as it made its way towards Bella. She looked at the bird when in landed in front of her as if it carried a death sentence. Finally, when Bella made no move to do so herself, Granger moved to take the note from the bird, but it quickly bit her and moved closer to the intended recipient. Draco chuckled to himself, _A well trained bird_. Bella finally took the note, opening and quickly reading over the message. Her expression darkened and soon enough, tears were pooling in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She stood quickly and headed towards the main doors of the Great Hall. Before he could think, Draco stuffed the unread letter from his father in his robes and went after her.

She was halfway up the stairs leading away from the Entrance Hall when he caught up to her.

"Bella!" he called to catch her attention.

As she turned another voice called out from behind him, "Oi! Malfoy! What do you think you're doing?" It was the characteristic greeting he received from Weasel. He and Potter were fast approaching. Draco turned slowly to face the Gryffindors.

"Is it really any of your business?" Draco snarled.

"It does when if it involves Bells," Potty asserted.

Draco scoffed, "I think that's for Bella to decide. Not you."

Draco turned back to Bella, who was still standing two steps above the boys in the entrance hall.

"Can I have a word with you?" Draco asked her quietly.

She looked over his shoulder at her friends.

"Without the goons," Draco gestured with his head toward the boys behind her.

"Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of them," she said. Her voice came out oddly, like she hadn't been speaking for days. Her usual melodically clear voice was hoarse and high-pitched.

Draco's eyes darted to his peripheral vision. Yep, Potty and Weasel were still lurking.

"You don't have to do everything St. Potter says," he said to her, raising his eyebrows pointedly.

She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, insisting "I don't usually. What's it to you?"

Draco sighed. Why did females—especially Gryffindors—have to make everything so difficult?

"It regards the letter you just received," he hoped to tantalize her with the prospect that he had information even though he had no idea what her letter had said.

She uncrossed her arms. Ah ha! Perhaps it had worked.

"What about it? How do you know what it says?"

"I don't. That's why I want to talk to you."

She just glared at him.

"I received one too," he offered.

"And what?" she asked, sarcasm dripping in her voice, "you thought we could compare notes?"

He didn't have a response for this one.

"No," she said firmly. "You know what? This isn't some silly homework assignment. This is real life. This is _my_ life!" Her voice was shrill.

Draco moved towards her, reaching out his hand for hers.

"Get away from her," Potter stepped to put himself between Draco and Bella. He turned her away from Draco, placing a hand gently on her lower back to guide her away. "Come on, Bells. Let's go back to Gryffindor Tower."

And with that, they climbed the stairs, Weasel's red hair bobbing along behind them.

As he watched them walk away, he pulled the letter from his father out of his robes. He unfolded it without looking down at what his hands were doing. Only when the three were out of sight did he finally look down at the familiar elegant handwriting of his father.

_Dear Draco,_

_Miss Riddle is receiving a letter from her father this morning detailing the procedure for her return from Hogwarts at the end of term. Your mother and I will be present at Platform 9 ¾ on the day of your arrival to take you home as usual. Until the time in which we can greet both you and our new ward, you will serve as her escort. She has been notified of this arrangement; however, I suspect her strong friendship with Potter and her upbringing outside of Pureblood Society will inspire her to do otherwise. It is in your best interest, dear son, to ensure her safe and simple return to her new home. We are her family now, and it is expected that Miss Riddle be treated with the utmost respect and provided with everything she require—within reason—to make her content. _

_Your mother sends her love, and wants you to tell Miss Riddle that she is so looking forward to having a young lady in the house._

_Regards,_

_Your loving Father_

Draco scoffed. He'd only signed that because Mother had been looking over his shoulder. Draco wasn't entirely sure if his father was loving or not. Was he capable of love? Draco thought so. He could see how he cared for his wife, Draco's mother. But affection was rarely, if ever, shown. And never to Draco. The most he had ever received from his father since he could remember was a clap on the back in recognition of a job well done. His mother made sure to shower him with affection when he returned home, but she knew better than to do so in public or in front of her husband. Whatever Draco lacked in his relationship with his father, his mother made sure to try to make up.

And wait, there was a post script:

_PS~You will not call Miss Riddle by anything but her full first name. No Hogwarts nick names._

He had already resigned himself to never calling her "No Name" again, but her full name was a mouthful. Maybe he could come up with a father-approved nick name. He would have to think about that. Draco read through the letter again. Hm. Even if his father's valediction wasn't convincing, he _was_ however convinced that his mother was in fact excited for _Arabella_ to come spend the summer at the Manor. No doubt she would have a blast dressing the former orphan in dress robes and sharing the latest gossip. That was if _Arabella—_he was going to have to get used to her full name—was even interested in dresses and gossip. As far as he could tell she fit right in with the boys talking about Quidditch and the bookworm over-achievers talking about school. But, maybe she would surprise him. No matter, his mother would just love having more estrogen in the house.

Draco put the letter back in his robes and turned on his heel. His thoughts were muddled with images of picnics in the garden, trips to the Lake House and watching sunsets on the back porch swing –his favorite summer activities and the ones he longed to share with Arabella. He was so lost in his daydreams he didn't realize his feet had automatically taken him to the dungeons until he came face to face with the wall which required a password for his entry.

"Aconite," he breathed to gain entry.

The wall slid back to reveal the eerily green common room. He was halfway to the steep spiral staircase leading down to the dormitories when he was at last pulled from his musings.

"Drakie!" her voice split through the silence like a lightning bolt. Draco winced. While it hadn't been difficult to tolerate Pansy's unending desire for his attention after their split, since he'd come to the conclusion he had an affection for Arabella, it had been a little harder to overlook her more..._irritating_ qualities, as he'd begun to unconsciously compare them to Arabella's. However, since discovering the true identity of his crush, one that would allow him to freely show—and even pursue—his affections, Pansy had become unbearable. He was positively certain it was practically on purpose.

Draco turned slowly on his heal to find Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini sitting on the plush couches in the center of the common room. There was a half-finished game of Wizard's Chess on the table along with an empty bag of chocolate frogs and a bowl of Bertie Botts Every Flavored Beans.

"Come sit!" Pansy insisted.

"I have business to attend to," Draco tried to excuse himself.

"What could you _possibly_ have to do? It's the end of term with no exams!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah, join us for a round of Exploding Snap, mate," Zabini suggested.

"Maybe another time."

"But Drakie..." Pansy whined. Draco didn't bother refraining from rolling his eyes as he turned back and carefully navigated the stairs down to the dormitory. He heard her give a loud "hmph" and a sigh as Crabbe attempted to comfort her by offering to take her on a walk.

Somehow Arabella had managed to evade Draco as the students boarded the train to return home for the summer holidays. He had been sure to get to the platform early to get a compartment so he could stand on the platform and wait for her. But the final whistle blew with no sign from her and he ended up having to run and hop onto the train.

"What took you so long, Drakie?" Pansy asked as Draco took his seat across the compartment from her.

"I was looking for Arabella," Draco humphed, sitting down for a moment. Once the train got up to full-speed he would go looking for her.

Pansy's facial expression turned sour at the mention of Arabella. She had never liked her very much, and now that she was the Dark Lord's daughter instead of a muggle, Pansy couldn't dislike her. At least not openly.

After twenty minutes, Draco stood. Crabbe and Goyle looked up, awaiting instructions, but Draco shook his head. He didn't want a fight and didn't want to seem menacing. He just wanted to retrieve Arabella as peacefully as possible. Actually, to be perfectly honest, he wanted a fight. He wanted to put Potter in his place and show her friends where she really belonged. But Draco knew two things: 1) Nine times out of ten, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs alike came to the rescue of the Potter clan, making winning a fight against the Golden Quartet basically impossible; and 2) it would anger and alienate Arabella. That was the last thing he wanted to do, so he knew that taking Zabini over the two thugs Crabbe and Goyle might go over a little more amicably.

"Zabini?"

His best mate looked up.

"Be my wing man?"

He just nodded and stood, following Draco out of the compartment. They made their way down the train, receiving questioning glances from everyone they passed. Everyone's moods were still somber from the end of term exams being cancelled and replaced by Diggory's funeral. Not to mention, Albus Dumbledore's announcement that the Dark Lord had returned. There was no mention of Arabella or Potter. And so, the fall-out from the evening in the graveyard would have to play out over the summer or possibly wait until the following school term. As he took in the expressions of his fellow students, Draco was sure they were wondering either why Draco was bothering to go looking to make trouble or why he wasn't with his usual trolls, Crabbe and Goyle. Draco ignored it, his singular goal finding Arabella.

When they finally came to the compartment that held Arabella and her friends, Draco stopped to survey the situation. She was seated next to Potter, across from Granger, already changed from her Hogwarts robes into a simple but elegant Muggle outfit. Although she held a book in her hands, he didn't think she was actually reading. The Weaselette and Longbottom were also sharing the compartment, playing a game of Exploding Snap on the seat near the window.

"Got a plan, mate?" Zabini asked.

Draco took a moment to think.

"That's a 'no'," Zabini commented with a chuckle.

Draco glared at him. "Shall we do this casually? Like it's nothing out of the ordinary? Or with authority—get a point across?"  
>"Well, either way, there's going to be a fight," Zabini shrugged.<p>

"Good point," Draco conceded with a sigh, realizing that hope for a peaceful extraction was futile. He looked back into the compartment to see Arabella, grim-faced as ever. Potter had pulled himself away from watching the game and was giving Granger a significant look in response to Arabella. Granger shook her shook her head imperceptibly, Potter nodded in response and looked back at the game.

Draco slid open the door to the compartment, making sure his wand was tucked up his sleeve within easy reach, but out of sight.

"There you are, Arabella," he said aloud, announcing his entrance, "I've been looking for you. We have a seat saved for you in another compartment."

He tried to speak in a friendly tone, only addressing the person in question. He didn't want to be friendly towards her friends, but he didn't want to awkwardly single her out for reprimand either.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Weasley asked—as usual.

"Do you ever get tired of asking me that, Weasel? Or are you just expecting me to answer that inane question for once? You _do_ know insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results, right?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ron said with indignation.

"Quoting Muggles, now, are we, Malfoy?" Granger pointed out. Draco raised his eyebrows at her. "Einstein said that—about insanity," she explained herself.

"Einstein? Who's that?" he asked nonchalantly. And then turning a back to the matter at hand, he said, "It looks like you are all having a dandy time, and I'm not one to...interrupt, but I've come to fetch Arabella to sit with us."

"No."

Draco had barely finished his sentence when Potter gritted this response from between his teeth.

"She's not going with you."

Draco knew he should not have been surprised by this declaration from Potter. Based on their behavior during the second task, he'd assumed that Potter had a bit of a crush on her anyway. But somehow, knowing Arabella was going home with him at the end of that train ride, whether Potter liked it or not, gave Draco a sense of security and superiority.

"I don't think this is up for discussion," Draco said calmly.

Arabella finally looked up from her book. The look in her eyes—those beautiful dark orbs that Draco so easily got lost in—was one of complete and utter despair. Lifeless. Pain. Sadness. Exhaustion. She'd never been one to sit by and let her friends fight for her, but Draco's wonder at her changed behavior vanished as his heart caught in his chest.

"Arabella," he barely found his voice in time, "You know that it is necessary you come with me."

Granger moved over to wrap her arm around her friend, "She doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to."

"I'm afraid," Draco said, his voice strangely quiet, "she does."

Arabella drooped a little, knowing the truth. Granger looked at Draco as if he'd grown an extra head—perhaps his demeanor was just too out of the ordinary for her. Draco Malfoy? Capable of manners? At least in front of Gryffindors, it was probably a first. And then suddenly there was a wand in his face.

"Get out," Potter bit out, his eyes on fire. "Now."

Before Draco could breathe, Zabini had his own wand out and trained on the boy with the lightning scar. It didn't take more than a blink of an eye for the Weasels and Longbottom to join in.

"You're out-numbered, Malfoy."

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Weasel-by."

"Alright, _children_," Arabella said with disdain. She stood, placing her book where she had just been sitting, and came to stand in between the wands.

She was about to tell them off when a Prefect burst in.

"Wands down!" he nearly bellowed, his own wand raised.

No one moved.

"I said, 'wands down!'" he repeated emphatically.

Draco shoved Zabini's arm down. It took a moment for everyone to follow. Unsurprisingly, Weaselette was the last to back down.

"You all should know better!" the nameless prefect reprimanded. "And whatever did she do to you to make you all turn on her like that?"

It was then Draco realized what it would look like to an outsider: All of them training their wands on Arabella. Granger opened her mouth to explain—to protest—for how can her perfect record be besmirched? But she couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"I want you all to separate. Slytherins, back to your own compartment," he nearly shoved them out of the compartment. Draco went, protesting, but it was no use. He could just hear the Prefect asking question in order to ensure that Arabella would be okay left with her friends, but he was too far to hear her response. No matter, he knew what it would be. Arabella would get to spend one last train ride with her friends. Probably for the best. And so he resigned himself to lose this battle, knowing he had a good chance to win the war. And he didn't mean the one between the Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord.

It wasn't too long before they arrived at Platform 9 ¾. He saw through the window his parents: his father holding the walking stick that housed and protected his wand, his long hair swept back from his face, looking impassively ahead while his mother rested her hand in the crook of his arm. He spotted a few other fathers of his friends, Death Eaters no doubt sent to watch over Arabella's retrieval more than to greet their own progeny. But as he disembarked the Hogwarts Express, he noticed another group of people at the other end of the train—the end of the train where Arabella spent the trip with her friends. That group contained Mad Eye Moody—the real one this time—along with Lupin, some other lady whose hair color kept changing, and the patriarch of the Weasley family.

"Draco! Welcome home!" his mother embraced him, but only long and affectionately enough to be strictly proper.

"Where is she?" his father asked immediately, looking over Draco's head for the young woman assigned to Draco's side for the journey from school. He frowned as Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and finally Zabini joined their families with no sign of the blond. It was then that he spotted her with the welcoming crew for the great St. Potter.

His father's eyes met his, glowing with the embers of rage.

Draco opened his mouth, but he was cut off.

"No excuses, Draco. We will talk about this at home."

Draco's mouth closed with a clank of his teeth as they met. Any normal person in his father's position would have stalked over to the Weasleys; however, Malfoys do not stalk. They walk calmly, shoulders back and chin held high. And this is what they did, as a family unit, with their fellow Death Eaters moving as inconspicuously as possible with them as protection and reinforcement.

"Why is she wearing _Muggle_ clothing?" Lucius hissed as they caught sight of her again through the crowd of red-heads.

"We'll fix it when we get home, dear," Narcissa said sweetly, patting her husband's arm. "It's probably just a habit. Remember, at the orphanage she was denied the Pureblood upbringing and privileges she deserved."

Lucius visibly softened at this reminder of her upbringing. Draco was glad his mother was able to temper him, for Arabella's sake. She would be going through enough changes this summer, she didn't need to have it done with hurtful criticism.

As they approached, they could just overhear Moody threatening a couple and their son—obviously Muggles. It was something about letting Potty write or he'd come "check" on them. Draco took in the sight of the thin, horse-faced woman and her large husband, whose mustache took over the majority of his lip. Their blond son was pudgy and looked so scared he could wet his pants. Draco nearly laughed, but remembered his place. As Moody was wrapping it up, Draco saw Potter's face turn from a smile of unmitigated delight at the expressions on his cousin's face to a grimace as he saw who was approaching. He grabbed Mr. Weasley's arm and whispered something Draco couldn't catch. Everyone in the assembly turned to face the Malfoys, but all facial expressions and postures were lacking any sense of welcome. He could just barely find Arabella in the small crowd of people surrounding and supporting her. Potty and Weasel shifted slightly so, coupled with Weaselette, they were hiding her from view. Granger had her arm around her friend in solidarity, while he could see Arabella had latched her smaller book bag—a grayish purple satchel with a large "B" for Bella embroidered with several decorative roses on the front pocket—around her shoulders, tucking her book inside and latching the clips in front.

"Lucius," Mr. Weasley greeted Draco's father. The scene seemed oddly familiar, until Draco remembered the scene their fathers had made in Flourish and Blotts just before second year.

"Arthur," Draco heard his father's curt and cold, but polite voice. "So _good_ of you to greet our Arabella as usual."

"Well, of course," Mr. Weasley said, matching the overly polite, even cutting, tone. "Our _Bella_ is one of the family, you know."

His father raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Well, no, I had no idea Miss _Riddle_ was so close to you all. How..._sweet._"

Draco thought he caught Arabella grimacing as she watched the exchange. Weasel's hands were balled into fists and Potty was already gripping at his wand.

"We are so happy to finally have her back _where she belongs_," Lucius emphasized with a smug smile.

"I trust that she will be well cared for this summer," Moody broke in.

"Naturally," Lucius responded cooly, still looking at Arthur.

Molly Weasley huffed a little. Lucius finally looked at Moody, insisting, "She's one of the family."

"Wait, what?" Potter burst out suddenly. "You're going to let her go with them?"

"Harry," Mr. Weasley turned to him, his voice soft and fatherly.

"No! You can't. _He'll_ be there," he hissed, obviously indicating the Dark Lord, "She's coming with us."

Lucius surveyed the situation cooly, but didn't interrupt, much to Draco's surprise.

"Bella is legally their ward. Just like you with the Dursleys."

"But—but—can't anything be done?" Weasel broke in.

"I've already talked with my connections at the Ministry. The Malfoys are her legal guardians. It is their prerogative to take her home for the summer."

Mr. Weasley lowered his voice, but Draco could still hear, "Harry, Bella, I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do."

Potter was the one to hang his head this time. He'd obviously deluded himself into believing his protectors could do anything. But this time, Draco could see Arabella take a deep breath and plaster a brave smile on her face.

"No, of course, Mr. Weasley. We understand completely," she said. She sighed as she broke from her embrace with Granger. "Well, ta ta for now," she turned to her confidante, enveloping the bushy-haired girl in a huge hug. Granger began to cry.

She tossed around hugs to the Weaselette and Weasel, giving them each a cliché "see ya next year" or "have a great summer." She thanked the adult Weasleys and Moody, even said a word to the strange woman, who she called Tonks, and to Lupin. And then she came to Harry.

"Don't worry about me, Harry," she said quietly. It was obvious she was trying to keep this conversation private. While the Weasleys politely began other conversations so as not to eavesdrop, the Malfoys listened in intently. She continued, "It's not like I'm going to Azkaban or anything."

"No, it's worse," he insisted, eyeing Lucius warily from the corner of his eye.

She grasped him in a ginormous hug, which grabbed his attention back. She whispered something inaudible in his ear. Draco felt a fist tighten around his heart. A fist he wasn't familiar with, until he realized it was jealousy. Jealousy of _Potter_, of all people. Over _her_. He desperately wanted Arabella to hug _him_ like that.

"Have a brilliant summer," she said. "Don't do anything stupid."

He laughed, but it quickly faded. "Look for Hedwig."

"Check your spelling," she teased

"Get some red ink," he insisted, teasingly bitter, as he rolled his eyes.

She smirked and sighed.

"See you September 1st!" she said cheerily. Draco could tell it was forced. "Love you all!"

She turned to face his family, dragging her trunk behind her.

"Mrs. Malfoy, good to see you again."

"We are so glad to have you for the summer," Narcissa exclaimed, giving her a proper Pureblood welcoming hug. By the look on Arabella's face, she was surprised, but pleased.

"Mr. Malfoy," she nodded politely to him once Narcissa let her go.

"A pleasure, as always, Miss Riddle," Lucius said, his voice slightly less cold, but still austerely polite. "We will be apparating. If you'll please take my arm..."

He held out his arm, with his walking stick still in his hand. In the other hand he took up the handle of her trunk. Slowly, trying not to show her hesitation, she took his arm, and with a large pop!—they were gone. Narcissa took Draco by the hand, holding tightly as she had when he was little, and he felt the familiar squeezing feeling as they disapparated and reappeared in the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa let his hand go after one more squeeze. She went to Arabella, who stood in the middle of the entrance hall, directly beneath the chandelier, a little dazed. Her formerly cheery facade had all but disapparated itself. Draco knew she'd been there before, but it had probably been dark and she'd been in shock. She took a moment to look around. It was then that the doors to the ballroom opened and a dark figure appeared.

"Welcome home, my little one!" the voice said clearly and authoritatively. Chills ran up Draco's spine, and he followed his father's lead in taking a formal stance with his eyes down out of respect, but not before he saw Arabella tense considerably. "I am so pleased to have you for the summer. Home from Hogwarts, my baby girl. As it should be, as it should be."

Draco watched from his peripheral vision as the Dark Lord planted what only could be defined as a kiss, though his lips were absent, on his daughter's head. Though he imagine she tried, she couldn't contain the shutter that went through her body, out of fear, disgust, or both. The Dark Lord surveyed her slowly, looking her up and down.

"She looks under-fed. And why is she wearing _Muggle_ clothing?" he commented, as if she weren't in the room standing right before him.

"My Lord, we will attend to both those matters straight away," Lucius cut in.

"You were given instruction to handle it _prior_ to her return, Lucius," the Dark Lord hissed, "Or don't you remember?"

"I do, My Lord. I apologize."

The Dark Lord pulled his wand out, and Draco braced himself for the impact of a curse, but the unexpected happened. A small, timid voice cut in.

"It isn't anyone's fault but mine," Arabella spoke courageously, though her terrified voice nearly betrayed her. "I haven't been feeling well, so I've been avoiding meals. And it's just habit from the years at the orphanage to put on Muggle clothes prior to disembarking the Hogwarts Express."

Draco was shocked. Did Bella—Arabella—just stand up for his father? A Malfoy?

The Dark Lord looked just as surprised, but his wand lowered slowly as he looked at the petit child before him.

"My child, are you saying that Lucius should not be held responsible for not following instructions?"

She'd gotten them all in a pickle now.

"No, sir," she shook her head. "But I've been at school for so long and at the orphanage before that. How could he control my appearing under-fed? And the Muggle clothes...well, those are really all I have save my Hogwarts uniform."

Draco's jaw nearly dropped at her audacious assertion, but he was so thankful that he was still looking at the floor out of respect.

"Lucius?" the Dark Lord hissed, "I trust this will be amended?"

"With your permission, My Lord, Narcissa and the children can go shopping in Diagon Alley tomorrow morning."

"That's really not necessary!" Arabella jumped in.

"Silence, little one," the Dark Lord waved her off with his hand. "Permission granted. Now, let us leave Narcissa and the children to get settled in. Lucius, a word? _Privately._"

He motioned to the ballroom. Draco's father visibly paled. Though Arabella had put in a good effort, it was likely there would still be a punishment for the Muggle clothing. And that punishment was sure to trickle down eventually to Draco himself.

"We'll get the chance to talk more later, little one," he whispered to his daughter quietly, before turning on his heel and following Lucius into the ballroom, his wand out and his cloak billowing behind him.

When the doors to the ballroom closed behind the two men, Draco let a breath of air he didn't realize he'd been holding in. The Dark Lord hadn't even noticed him—or at least hadn't addressed him. But that was probably for the best. Arabella noticeably drooped from where she stood, letting the tension she'd formerly held in her body lessen only slightly. Draco hadn't been around Arabella that much, but he'd watched her enough in class and in the Great Hall to know she was visibly uncomfortable here. He vowed to change that. And he knew his mother could help.

"Well, then," Narcissa said, trying to brighten the mood of the room with her voice. "Draco, let's help Arabella get settled, shall we? And then we can have some tea out in the garden. How does that sound?"

Arabella pulled herself together, turned, and with a smile said, "That sounds lovely, Mrs. Malfoy. I really do appreciate your hospitality."

_A/N: Sorry it took so long. Finals, a visit from family, starting research/work, and moving sort of distracted me. I hope you enjoy—please let me know what you think! Also, I thought those fans of Broadway would appreciate that I definitely listened to Dan Radcliffe in _How to Succeed In Business Without Really Trying _while finishing up this chapter. Nothing inspires a girl more than listening to the actor who plays Harry Potter sing with an American accent! Xoxo! ~CW_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything related to the Harry Potter canon, franchise, etc._

III. Awkward Summer

Draco looked at her over the book he was holding. He did so as slyly as possible, not bothering to move his head. He flipped a page to make it sound like he was reading, which he wasn't. He was hyper-aware of her presence so near. There she sat, on the couch across the coffee table from him, her legs tucked under her, leaning on a small pillow with a blanket over her shoulders and a father-approved (both his and hers) Wizarding novel in her hands. He observed her closely. The color had begun to return to her cheeks after weeks of looking ashen. Her eyes were bright and engaged, but Draco wasn't sure if it was due to her interest in the novel or the slow retreat of the grim depression that had shielded their characteristic twinkle for too long after the Dark Lord's return. Either way, she was as stunning as ever, and she was here, with him. This made his heart...happy? Content, maybe? He wasn't quite sure how to explain the feeling, but he was certain it was entirely her fault and that it was a positive change from the norm. And yet...

He squashed the thought quickly. He'd gotten used to doing just that—stamping down the painful thoughts that tended to be conjured up when his thoughts got rolling. Yes, she was here, with him...but only because she _had_ to be. If it were up to her, she would be spending the summer with Potty, Weaselby and that Mudblood Granger. Draco's smile turned into a sneer. The _Golden_ Quartet. Humph. Well, this was the end of that, he reminded himself. Arabella was under strict surveillance this summer from the Malfoys, from other Death Eaters, and even from the Dark Lord himself. And there was no way she was going to be spending anymore time with those three. And Draco managed—or at least tried—to convince himself that one day Arabella would desire to spend time with him instead of being forced into it. And that, _that's _what made his heart happy—even happier than just getting an opportunity to be in the same room as she without her friends or classmates.

The summer had progressed slowly and awkwardly. Arabella hadn't adjusted well to living with the Malfoys. As per her father's orders, she hadn't been allowed out of the house without multiple guards. Other than the trip to Diagon Alley to obtain Wizarding clothing, she hadn't been allowed past the Manor grounds. Days were spent in the library or parlor, reading, playing games, and, in Arabella's case, journaling. Afternoons passed with a break for tea with Narcissa and generally a walk in the garden after dinner. The annual trip to the Lake House at the end of July—the one Draco looked forward to all year every year—was cancelled. The Manor had become the main operating grounds for the Dark Lord. He had installed himself in the West Ballroom off of the main entrance hall. Draco and Arabella rarely saw him. Draco rarely saw his own father, anymore, which wasn't wholly unusual. However, he had quickly become accustomed to the various strangers walking the halls of the Manor, mostly in the spare bedrooms of the West and East wings (while their bedrooms were located in the South wing). Sometimes voices would echo up from the main floor, but most disruptions were well-contained.

However, a few weeks after they had returned from school. Draco had been walking through the entrance hall from the parlor, where he and Arabella were listening to music on the phonograph, to the restroom on the other side of the stairwell. He heard voices coming from the ballroom, where the Dark Lord was sure to be found. The door was open just a crack, so he found that if he placed his ear to the door, he could hear the conversation—or at least most of it.

"I have had wizards younger than they devote themselves to my service, Lucius," the Dark Lord's serpentine voice was cold, but melodic.

"Of course, my Lord, but while continuing an education at Hogwarts?"

"They're enrollment in Hogwarts will offer plenty of opportunities for them to be of use to me. Especially while Harry Potter is still there." He paused. "But I sense that is not your concern—a lack of opportunity to serve me. Your concern is your son's safety, is it not?"

"He is our only—" Lucius began, but was cut off.

"Are you saying, Lucius," he emphasized the "s" sound of his name, "that you do not want your son to join the ranks? That it would not be an honor and a privilege...?"

"No—no, my Lord!" Lucius back tracked. "We would be—_he_ would be—most honored!"

"Of course he would," the Dark Lord agreed. "I do not believe they are too young, Lucius."

"My Lord," the slippery voice of Severus Snape interrupted.

Draco almost took a step back at hearing the man's voice. Severus was the only Hogwarts professor who had been an original servant to the Dark Lord. When the Dark Lord returned, he had remained at Hogwarts to maintain the facade of trust he had built with Dumbledore and had returned to the Dark Lord as soon as he could when the aftermath of Potter's return with Diggory's body had died down. He had been in and out of the Manor during the summer, diligently serving the Dark Lord, while maintaining appearances with Dumbledore and the wider Wizarding World, but even then Draco and Arabella never saw him.

"Yes, Severus?" the Dark Lord seemed a little irritated at the interruption.

"While I agree that Arabella and Draco are not too young to be of service at Hogwarts, I would caution against giving the Dark Mark."

Draco's blood ran cold. The Dark Mark? He'd not thought about how his role would change—how his future would change—since the Dark Lord's return. But of course it made sense that he would take the Mark, following in his father's footsteps to uphold the family name.

"Oh?" the Dark Lord sounded intrigued. "And why would that be."

"The Dark Mark would betray your return, my Lord. And while it may not be an issue for Draco, living with Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini and Nott, it would be a problem with Arabella. She would be unable to hide the mark on her arm from some of the most gossipy females in the school."

Draco smirked. It was true. With Patil and Brown in that room, there was never an end to the chit-chat about new marks, piercings, or hair-dos appearing in the Gryffindor girl's washroom. Draco didn't have the chance, however, to hear how the Dark Lord responded. The sound of footsteps approaching echoes from the hallway above, and he was forced to continue on to his original destination, for fear of being caught snooping.

For the next few days, Draco tried not to think about the possible outcome of that particular conversation. And he tried not to think about how betrayed and angry his father would be if he decided he _didn't_ want to take the Dark Mark. And he even repeatedly squashed the thought that plagued him the most: what if he wasn't given a choice? What if he _had_ to take the Mark? He would be destined for a life of servitude. Was he prepared for that? His stomach was in knots, and he walked around so distracted that even Arabella noticed.

"Are you okay, Malfoy?" she asked one morning, looking up from her spot in the window seat of the West Wing library, where she'd curled up with her journal and a quill.

"Hm?" he pulled his attention away from the page he'd been staring at for a half-hour. "Sorry?"  
>She smiled. "You seem distracted. Is everything alright?"<p>

"Oh, yes, just fine," he said. "Just thinking."

"Okay," she said slowly, as if not really believing. "If you'd like to talk about it, I'm all ears. Though, I'm sure I'm the last person you'd want to talk about anything with."

She dipped her quill back into the little pot of ink and began writing again, effectively lifting any pressure to talk off of Draco. He was appreciative of that. But, of course, Draco was really _dying_ to talk to her. Just not about the Dark Mark. He watched her for a moment, wondering if she had always been gifted with the ability to make people feel at ease in her company, even if she didn't feel at ease in theirs. He could very easily understand why people trusted and confided in Arabella. There was nothing threatening about her countenance, and she had the uncanny ability to relieve any feeling of awkwardness from even the most strange and unlikely encounters. Draco was pulled away from the first pleasant thoughts he'd had in several days by the familiar click of high heels on the wood flooring of the library. He looked over his shoulder to see his mother enter. She looked grim at first, but when she spoke she displayed a sly smile, indicating she knew something they didn't. A surprise of sorts, Draco guessed.

"You two will be joining the Dark Lord and some select others for tea this afternoon," she spoke, very formally. "You will need to go wash up and change quickly."

"What's going on?" Arabella asked. Her voice, which only a moment ago had been calm and confident, was laced with anxiety, and her face had lost is color.

"He'd like to speak to the two of you."

"About what?" Draco asked.

"I'm—" she sighed, "I'm not at liberty to say. You'll find out soon enough, dear. Now, why don't you two head upstairs to change." As they stood, Narcissa put a comforting arm around Arabella and guided her to the door, but the young lady remained stiff, obviously nervous. "I've had Trinky lay out that gorgeous rose-colored sundress with the sheer sleeves. And I'll come by to help you with your hair in a few minutes."

Arabella just nodded flatly, and Draco led her through the halls. She trailed behind him, sort of like a lost puppy, moving slowly enough that he had to stop on the landing and wait for her to catch up more than once before continuing down the hallway. He escorted her to her room and then continued on to his.

As he bounded into his room, he found that his mother had already had Kridder lay out clothing for him as well. All black. His stomach sank. That's what all of the Death Eaters wore. All black. Was this the moment when he would be told he was destined for the Dark Mark? Or had they changed their minds and decided now was the time? He gulped. Shaking his head clear of those thoughts, he quickly changed and combed through his hair. And then, knowing it would take Arabella a little extra time to prepare, compared to him, he sat on his bed and stared out the window. Apart from having them take the Mark, which would involve the entire Death Eater circle, what could the Dark Lord possibly want with them? He had conspicuously avoided them the entire summer. He had called Arabella only once to talk with him—a week after they had returned. When Draco had asked what happened in the meeting, Arabella had simply replied that her father had just wanted to "catch up." He wondered what that meant. But now...now he wanted to see not just his daughter, but Draco, as well. What was this about? And how were you supposed to drink tea with the Dark Lord? Did he even eat or drink? He never took meals with them. How does one respond to the Dark Lord? How do you sit or act or think—Father had told Draco how masterful the Dark Lord was at Legilimency. He would surely know how Draco felt about his daughter before Draco even opened his mouth. Draco hung his head in his hands, all his bravado and Malfoy-confidence gone. He was doomed. His father would be so disappointed...

Just when he thought he'd lost track of time, he took a deep breath and stood. He walked down the hallway and past Arabella's room to stand where the South hallway met the West and East Hallways at a T at the top of the main staircase. He leaned his arms against the railing, looking down onto the main entrance hall. It was empty. All was silent.

He heard the click-clack of his mother's high heels first, and then another pair of feet following. He turned—and felt his palms begin to sweat. He forced his mouth shut and his eyes to return to their normal size as they approached. His mother, for all her Pureblood fancies, sure did know how to dress a girl. Arabella had on a beautiful pink dress, with a square-neck tank top and a flare skirt. It had a several layers, a base layer and gossamer layer on top. This second, sheer layer gave the gown an airy texture added casual cap-sleeves to cover the shoulders left uncovered by the primary layer. His mother had done wonders with her hair in such a short time, giving her soft but smooth curls held back from her face by a headband. But, he could see where his mother had lost the fashion battle to Arabella's practicality: as usual, her face was unadorned by any makeup or magic. The only missing piece was that she lacked her sunny smile, replaced instead by a distinct frown, highlighting her discomfort and fear. Up until now, the dresses his mother had bought for her had hung in the closet, untouched. Arabella preferred shorts or slacks to curl up in on the couch. And now Draco remembered how taken with her he'd been at the Yule Ball: the first time he'd seen her not in the school uniform or in those Muggle clothes made of rough blue cloth that she and her friends always wore on the Hogwarts Express. If he had to guess, by the way his body was reacting to her presence, he definitely had feelings for her.

As the ladies approached, Draco searched for the tenacity to say something to her, a compliment or something. But without stopping, Narcissa led them down the stairs and to the door that led into the formal dining hall. Before opening the door she stopped, for just a moment:

"Best behavior," she said kindly, but with a significant look.

And without waiting a moment more, she opened the doors and allowed the children to enter before her. Instead of the large table that the Malfoys generally used for special occasions and holidays, there was a small tea table with six chairs placed around it. Four of those chairs were already taken, and the table was already laden with a tea tray, finger sandwiches and petits fours.

"Professor Snape!" Arabella's exclamation drew Draco's attention away from the food.

"Miss Riddle," he nodded to the young lady, and then he turned to Draco, "Draco. Good to see you both again."

Arabella's face twisted into a grimace. Draco knew that, of all of the people present, she trusted Snape the most, even if she considered him a traitor for returning to the Dark Lord. But, she still hadn't gotten used to not being called Bella.

"Welcome, welcome" the Dark Lord interrupted. "We have much to discuss. Why don't we sit down to some tea while we talk?"

Draco moved forward, his hand moving to the small of her back to guide her to a seat, but she adjusted her position so he couldn't touch her. Either way, it sufficed to get her to sit down.

The tea pot poured hot liquid into every cup of its own accord. The little cream and sugar hobbled around the table together, pausing at each guest to allow time to take what was desired before continuing on to the next.

Sure enough, the Dark Lord took a sip of tea, answering Draco's earlier question to himself. He found it odd, seeing as the snake-like face lacked lips, more or less. There was a hissing sound and a movement from the corner. Draco caught sight of a very large snake making its way toward the table, specifically toward the Dark Lord.

"Don't mind Nagini," he said, seeing Draco's expression. "She's been fed already."

Draco gulped, and stole a glance at Arabella. She seemed unfazed by the creature.

"It has been several weeks since we have talked, little one," the Dark Lord began. "It has come to my attention that you are having difficulties adjusting to your new home."

Arabella didn't look up. She suddenly became very interested in the napkin in her lap.

"Now, now, little one," he said, cloyingly. "You may not have been raised in my household, but you are here now. You will look at me and answer me."

"With all due respect, sir," she gritted out, raising her glance to meet her fathers. "You didn't ask me a question. I have nothing to answer."

Much to the Draco's surprise, the Dark Lord began to chuckle. Draco saw his mother's grim expression flicker to surprise. Lucius even dared a glance at the Dark Lord, whose yellow crooked teeth were showing as he laughed. Severus remained silent and impassive. His eyes darted swiftly from the tea kettle to Arabella just for a moment. No one noticed but Draco. The cream and sugar had now arrived in front of him. He carefully, trying not to draw any attention to himself poured some cream into his tea, before letting the little porcelain tea-ware hobble on to Arabella.

"How right you are, my little one," and he turned to Snape, "She is just as clever and audacious as you indicated, Severus." He turned back to his daughter. "Are you having trouble adjusting, my sweet Arabella?"

Arabella barely betrayed a flinch at her father's pet name.

"No, sir."

"Don't lie to me, little one."

She winced slightly, "Alright, maybe a little."

"And why is that? Have the Malfoys not extended every courtesy to you as an honored guest?"

"No—no!" she said quickly, "I mean, yes! I mean," she sighed. "The Malfoys have done nothing but be the most accommodating hosts. I could ask for nothing more or better."

Draco saw his mother betray a smug smile of triumph. She prided herself on being the best hostess. And Draco knew she wanted to be a mother to Arabella as well—if Arabella would only give her the opportunity.

"Then, my child, what is the problem?"

Arabella's eyes darted toward Severus, and lingered just a little too long.

"This is not Double Potions, little one. Severus has no answers for you."

Arabella's face reddened and she quickly glanced at her hands folded in her lap. Draco looked down, embarrassed for her. This was a peculiar feeling. Usually he reveled in other people's embarrassment, but now he wanted nothing more than for the tension of the moment to be relieved.

"Arabella Rose?" the Dark Lord's voice was stern.

"There is no problem, sir," she mumbled.

"So, my informant was lying to me when he said you were having trouble with the new environment?"

Arabella sighed with exasperation, "No, that's not what I'm saying."

The Dark Lord looked at her expectantly.

"Either way I answer your question, I lose," Arabella said frankly.

"How is that?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Well, if I answer honestly, you'll get angry at the reasons I give. If I answer dishonestly, you'll get angry at my lying."

"You fear my anger?"

It wasn't so much a question as a statement.

Arabella looked back into her lap.

"I'm sorry, did I not make myself clear?" he asked, looking solely at his daughter. "You will look at and answer your father when he speaks to you, Arabella."

She swallowed and squarely faced the Dark Lord, "Yes, sir. I do."

The Dark Lord looked just a little too smug for Draco's comfort.

"As you should, little one. And you would do well to avoid incurring it. But nothing would please me more than to know the truth of the situation, so that perhaps we can amend things for the better."

There was silence as everyone waited for Arabella's response. She took a moment to collect herself, taking a few deep breaths.

"I want to go home."

"And where is that?" the Dark Lord asked quietly.

"I don't know," she confessed, her voice breaking a little.

The Dark Lord studied his daughter for a moment, tapping his long fingers on the table. The tension in the room was uncomfortable. Narcissa was looking at her lap, twisting her napkin into a tight knot. Even Severus couldn't look at Arabella.

"I am your father. This," he motioned to the Malfoys at the table, "is your family. This is your home."

"No," she insisted, "it's not."

The Dark Lord raised his eyebrows at her, as if to get her to continue.

"Hogwarts is home, the Burrow is home, the orphanage, even, is home. This is not home."

"And what do those things have that this home lacks?" the Dark Lord's voice was rising.

Draco knew the answer to that. And, based on the his expression, Draco guessed the Dark Lord knew too.

"Harry Potter? Is that what you are lacking? Your _friends_?" he spat.

Arabella couldn't meet his gaze.

"Look at me when I speak to you, Arabella!" his voice was commanding, sending shivers down Draco's spine.

She looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Answer me."

"Yes," she said. "They are my family."

"_We_ are your family now," Lucius interrupted.

"You are my legal guardians, but not my family," she corrected. Draco was astonished at her impertinence. "Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys—they are my family. They know me, love me, and accept me for who I am."

"They are _not_ your family, Arabella. They share neither your blood nor your familial prestige. We share that with you—and that forms a bond that will tie us together forever. We will stand by you through everything," Lucius explained further. His tone of voice was uncharacteristically kind, while still remaining firm. Draco couldn't tell if this atypical nuance was sincere, or just a show for the Dark Lord.

"I don't care about my blood!" Arabella burst out, rising to her feet in anger. "I don't care about Muggles or Wizards or family ties. There is no love here. You will never be my family! This will never be my home!"

"Silence!" the Dark Lord's voice was as smooth and husky as a whisper but as loud as a shout. Arabella shut her mouth with a click and plopped down in her seat as if hit with a spell. "Such blatant disrespect will not be tolerated! "

His voice returned to normal, "I trust you are quite finished?"

She nodded once, her lips pressed together to remain silent. Her eyes were wide with fear, but her jaw was set with a stubborn determination.

"Pardon me? I didn't hear you, little one?" the Dark Lord tilted his head and put a finger behind his ear to emphasize Arabella's lack of response.

"Yes, sir," she gritted out. Draco could see her fists beneath the table wrapping slowly into balls until her knuckles turned white. He longed to grasp one of those hands in hers until her tension was released.

"Blood is everything, Arabella. It trumps everything. And you have some of the purist. Do not insult your family or your father with such perjury. _This_ is your family," he spread out his arms to indicate those present, yet again. "_This_ is your home."

Arabella couldn't meet his gaze and looked pointedly at her teacup. There was silence for a moment. Surprisingly, Narcissa spoke next.

"And we want to do everything in our power to make you feel welcome here. We want you to feel safe, comfortable, and loved."

Draco didn't think he could love or appreciate his mother more than in that particular moment. Arabella looked up at Narcissa.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Arabella said. "I think I just need time to adjust. And to get to know you all better."

"Of course, darling," Mrs. Malfoy reached for her hand and patted it sweetly. "And we'll get to know you better as well."

"You see, my child? You are home at last."

Arabella took a sip of her tea as Narcissa began to pass the plate of petits fours around.

"Now, to the next item of business," the Dark Lord steepled his fingers on either side of his wand before turning to Draco and Arabella. "Now, it has come to my attention that you both have a passion for Potions. Is that correct?"

Draco looked at Arabella. She met his glance with the first smirk he'd seen from her all day.

"Yes, sir," they said at the same time.

"Severus will be returning to his post as Potions Master at Hogwarts in September, and I expect you will have Potions class together?"

Snape nodded, "The Gryffindors and Slytherins are currently scheduled for double potions on Monday and Thursday. Before lunch. I have no reason to believe that will change between now and September."

"Perfect," the Dark Lord said, with a little too much relish for Draco's comfort level. The Dark Lord turned to his daughter. "Severus will be keeping an eye on you, my little one. And I would like you both," he now looked with his slit-like red eyes upon Draco, "to report to him with any concerns or updates.

"These updates will include you relaying any pertinent information to your tasks. Yes, my little one, you each have an appointed task this school year," he said, obviously reading his daughter's thoughts, since she hadn't opened her mouth to speak, for once.

"Draco," the Dark Lord's eyes bore into Draco's own, and he struggled to maintain eye contact. "You will be responsible for keeping an eye on Arabella. Severus, as a member of the faculty, can only do so much. While you, as a student and the son of her legal guardians, can maintain a more..." he paused, searching for the right word, "..._intimate_ relationship with her, in order to ensure she remains safe and exercises suitable conduct."

Draco didn't think that was so bad. He probably would've done it either way. What really made him curious was the emphasis on "intimate relationship." Draco caught his father's eyes, shooting daggers at him and quickly recovered from his thoughts.

"Yes, my Lord," at further pointed glances from his father he continued, "It will be an honor."

"In this way, young Draco, you will prove yourself to me so that perhaps, when the time is right, you may take the Dark Mark and join the honorable ranks like your father."

"Thank you, my Lord," his voice was quivering, the conversation he'd overheard in the entrance hall flashing through his mind before he was able to squash it so the Dark Lord couldn't see.

Draco was still focusing on maintaining appearances in front of the Dark Lord, but he was suddenly distracted by a hissing noise coming beside him. Draco turned to see the snake—what was it's name again?—slithering up Arabella's chair to place its head in her lap. And then he realized, the hissing was coming from Arabella's mouth, not from the serpent. The sound was strangely elegant coming from the young woman, but it wasn't wholly unfamiliar to him. He'd heard it once before, during the second year duel with Potter in which he'd produced a snake on Snape's command. She was speaking to the snake in its own language. As it slithered away from Arabella and toward Draco, she said something else to the snake, who decided to return to her master for whatever reason. When Draco looked back to the table, every adult in the room was looking at Arabella, the Malfoys with amazement and fear on their faces. The Dark Lord's face held an uncharacteristic expression: a strange mixture of pride and excitement.

He spoke to her, but it was only perceived as a hissing sound by the other four members of the table. She responded, but Draco couldn't tell if she knew she was speaking in Parseltongue or not.

The Dark Lord was so delighted, he stood and approached his daughter. Taking her face in his hands as she stiffened, he kissed her head.

"Ah, my child, you are a Parselmouth!" he exclaimed as if she had just won some award or something. "Severus had taught me to hope, indicating he thought you might be—but now that I've heard it myself—ah! Wonderful!"

Arabella obviously didn't know how to respond, but she relaxed slightly when the Dark Lord retreated. And Draco felt his body do the same, having not even realized he had stiffened in fear as well.

"Now," the Dark Lord commanded, "I want to hear all about how you discovered it!"

"I really don't think you do," Arabella muttered, as her father returned to his seat.

Draco knew exactly why she said that and couldn't withhold the sneer that graced his features as a result.

"And why not?" the Dark Lord asked, his anger rising again.

Arabella looked down into her hands and mumbled.

"Look up and speak, little one."

"Because it involves—because it's terribly dull," she said.

Draco shifted in his seat. He hadn't missed her sudden change of wording; no doubt the Dark Lord hadn't either. Her father looked at her intently, just waiting.

Arabella sighed, "The first time I talked to a snake was in grade school. Some snake wrangler came and showed us some venomous snakes and told us how to identify the dangerous ones as opposed to the harmless ones. Well, my friend Catherine and I were very afraid. But, as the snakes got man-handled, I could understand what they were saying. I heard them talking back and forth and to the wrangler, though he obviously didn't understand. I thought I'd gone crazy. I was afraid to speak the rest of the day, thinking I had mutated into some snake-lady just by petting one of the garden snakes."

Draco could see his mother smile kindly and knowingly at Arabella in the way only a mother can. The Dark Lord's eyes were still bright waiting for more.

"And how did you discover the true magic of it?"

Arabella's eyes darted to Draco and then to Snape, and then back to her lap. She began speaking, but when the Dark Lord cleared his throat, she began again, this time looking up at him and speaking clearly.

"We had a dueling club at Hogwarts our second year," she gestured to Draco. When he caught her eyes, they looked pleading, "Malfoy was dueling and produced a snake out of his wand. The commotion that followed, when the snake went to attack another student, was one in which I discovered I could understand the snake, but others couldn't. When we were all sent to our common rooms, that's when I was told of the magical power of it."

Draco looked at Arabella incredulously. She'd left out at least half of that story. And up until then, though he'd realized she was speaking Parseltongue, he'd not thought about the second year experience within that context: she had obviously understood what Potter was saying to the snake, even though no one else could. She was the only one aside from Potter who really knew whether he had egged the snake on or called it off.

"So what did he say?" Draco found himself struck by this discovery and had spoken without thinking.

Arabella turned her head slowly to look at Draco, and he discovered she was glaring daggers at him. He'd obviously said something wrong.

"It was a female snake," Arabella retorted rudely.

Draco then realized, she was hiding the fact that Potter was a Parselmouth from her father. On purpose. She'd carefully worded the story so as not to mention Potter, the Gryffindors, or anything related.

Draco turned back to his tea. But the Dark Lord was looking at Arabella, then Draco and then back to Arabella.

"What are you hiding, Arabella?" the Dark Lord asked.

Silence.

Draco shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Arabella was going to be very angry with him later on.

"It does not do to withhold information from me, my child. I will find out eventually."

"Especially since both Draco and I were present at the time," Snape interjected.

"Ah ha!" said the Dark Lord, spreading his hands out, palms up, "You see? Either way I'll know. But I find things always end better when people are honest with me. _Upfront_."

Glaring at Snape with more rage than Draco thought her capable of, Arabella began again, "Malfoy was dueling Harry when he produced the snake."

"Draco and Harry Potter?" the Dark Lord interrupted, correcting her use of names: Draco was to be called by his first name and Harry Potter by only his last or full name. That was the Death Eater protocol.

"Yes," Arabella looked at her father this time, and then added at the end, "sir."

"And?"

"And when _Draco_ produced the snake from his wand, _Harry Potter_ spoke to the snake."

"Ah ha!" her father said slowly, pressing his finger tips together with a sickly smile. "Harry Potter is a_ Parselmouth_? Very interesting."

"And he told the snake to leave Justin alone," she said, turning to Draco and answering his original question. "He _wasn't_ egging it on, like everyone thought."

Draco very quickly discovered he could no longer meet her gaze.

"See how easy it is to be honest with me, my little girl?" the Dark Lord continued, "Now, just adjust your tone and your composure, and there should be no repercussions for your slight detractions from the true story."

Arabella shifted in her seat so her hands were gently placed in her lap and her back was straight. She swallowed and re-adjusted her features.

"Now then, speaking of Harry Potter, shall we discuss your task for the year, my dear?" the Dark Lord began again. "I realize you have been close with the boy in the past—and from what Lucius told me from your arrival at Platform 9 ¾—I imagine you will be able to maintain a closeness that will allow you access into his confidences."

Arabella suddenly looked stricken. The color drained from her cheeks such, and since her they had previously been flushed with anger, she looked especially pale and sickly.

"Twice a week you will report directly to Severus on anything Potter has done or said that does not pertain directly to a class or a bodily function."

Draco smirked at this instruction, suddenly reminded that the Dark Lord was at one time a teenage boy, no matter how hard that was to imagine.

"I won't betray my best friend!" came an outburst from Arabella. Draco's smile faded quickly.

"What did I say about respect, Miss Arabella? And you know very well you will no longer be best friends with the boy, apart from the part you play to gather information. These people are not worthy to be friends of yours. You will do well to remember just where you come from."

"An orphanage in Stratford?" was her cheeky response. Draco was surprised at her ability to remain sarcastically inclined in front of the most intimidating wizard of all time.

"A family whose magical prestige is world-renowned," the Dark Lord corrected menacingly. "You have quite the name to live up to."

"And if I don't want to?" she gritted out.

"My child, you don't have a choice," came the quiet but firm response. "Now, if for any reason Severus does not feel as though you are being forthright in your reports, he has permission to use Veritaserum, as well as any other methods of persuasion, in order to receive honest and complete information."

Draco stole a glance at Arabella. Tears were streaming down her face as she continued to look at her father, as per his previous instructions.

"Of course, little one, no such method will be necessary, will it?"

Silence

"Will it?" the Dark Lord re-emphasized, twirling his wand threateningly in his fingers.

"No. Sir."

"And, until you can prove yourself trustworthy and loyal, I will be placing you under a little charm," he said as he waved his wand, "which will not allow you to discuss this information with anyone but those at this table presently."

Arabella shivered slightly as a glowing blue light encompassed her and then faded as if absorbing into her skin. Tears continued to course down her cheeks. Draco longed to wipe them away and make her smile again.

"Now," the Dark Lord said, clasping his hands. "You both have your instructions for the school year. It has come to my attention that you two have not had the most...amicable relationship while at school."

Draco looked at Arabella. She didn't move her head, but he caught her eyes darting towards him and then to Snape before settling on her tea cup. She took a sip of it, as if to preclude her father from requesting a response.

The Dark Lord looked to Lucius and Narcissa.

"We realize that much of this animosity you two have towards each other is due to your upbringings in completely different environments stemming from our failure to rescue Arabella after her mother's death. And for that we are deeply sorry," Lucius spoke. "But I'm sure Draco realized as soon as he learned of your true identity how his behavior to you, treating you as a muggle-born and no more than a side kick to Potter, was reprehensible and to be immediately amended."

Draco nodded emphatically, but Arabella couldn't meet his gaze. Lucius gave Draco a meaningful look and nodded his head just barely toward Arabella. Draco inwardly groaned. His father wanted him to apologize. In front of everyone. Draco didn't know what to say. He was terrible at apologies—he didn't know how—in fact, he didn't remember the last time he'd had to. He'd never been taught to apologize, but rather told repeatedly that Malfoys were never wrong.

Draco coughed in his fist to clear his throat before turning to the girl beside him. His hands were already sweating again. "I—I—ap_olo_gize for—for—the way I treated you—over the past four years," he stumbled over his words.

Strangely enough, Arabella met his eyes. She searched his face and then said simply, but sincerely, "Thank you. Apology accepted."

And then she turned back to her tea.

"And what do you say Arabella?" her father prompted after an awkward moment of silence.

"I don't think I owe Malfoy—uh—Draco an apology," she said frankly, "_Father._"

The Dark Lord's anger rose quickly, and the look on Lucius' face was livid.

"My Lord," Draco spoke, though he couldn't remember having the courage to do so. "She's right."

He looked to his father, whose eyes widened. His mother, to whom Draco had talked about his school adventures with numerous times on breaks, did not look surprised; and funnily enough neither did Snape. He could see Arabella out of the corner of his eye looking at him. Though he forced himself to keep his eyes straight ahead and not look at her, he longed to see what he guessed was a look of incredulity grace her features.

"She's done nothing to me to—to—necessitate an apology," Draco continued. The Dark Lord raised his eyebrows in question. "She's only ever tried to keep the peace between me and her friends, even going so far as to help me when I was injured and was trying to antagonize Potter and Weasley."

"Well, well, my child, so I was correct in thinking that you _are _capable of propriety," the Dark Lord said, "It would do well for you to show it more often."

Draco finally met Arabella's gaze. Just before dropping her eyes, she mouthed a quick thank you. He let his heart smile just for a moment before reining his emotions in for the conversation at hand.

"With all of that in the open," Lucius began again, "I'm sure you two will reconcile and be capable of building a friendship that up until now has been suppressed."

Draco didn't think suppressed was the right word, and by the uncomfortable shifting of Arabella in her seat beside him, he began to think she agreed. He also guessed that she would be none too pleased with the idea of beginning a friendship.

"With that in mind..." Lucius trailed off, looking suddenly uncomfortable. He then turned to his wife for help, something Draco didn't think he'd ever seen. "Narcissa?"

She looked at him sympathetically and then with loving eyes back at Draco and Arabella. Draco could tell his mother already had a fondness for the girl beside him, and Draco hoped Arabella would one day feel the same about her.

"We know this is a touchy subject. Where should I start?"

Draco got a sinking feeling in his stomach, suddenly very uncomfortable sitting so close to Arabella and the Dark Lord.

"Arabella, your mother and I were close friends, especially since we were pregnant together with the two of you. During the same conversation in which Lucius and I were named your guardians, we decided that we wanted more than anything for our families to be close. With that in mind, and with your fathers' blessings, we made a pact that one day, if it were still magically beneficial you two would marry."

There was silence for only a moment, but it felt like an eternity. Draco could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Had he really just heard correctly?

"Wait, what?" Arabella said, her facial expression disbelieving.

"And, given the lines of Pureblood and the rise of the Dark Lord, we believe a marriage between you two would be most advantageous," Narcissa finished.

Draco had barely blinked, but in a flash Arabella was out of her seat and out the door. Lucius and Snape rose to retrieve her.

"Let her go," the Dark Lord said, for once not looking to control her.

"My Lord?" Lucius looked at him, surprised, waiting for an explanation.

"It's a lot of change for one summer," Snape commented.

"Yes. And she will adjust. But if she's anything like her mother, she needs some time to cool off before we speak of it again."

Draco was still reeling. _Marry_? He was going to _marry_ Arabella Riddle? This was no Dark Mark, as Draco had feared! His heart lept with joy at the thought of him and Arabella together. But his stomach flipped uncomfortably with the thought as well. First off, she hated him. Needless to say, that was probably the biggest stumbling block. Secondly, they were only fifteen. How could they be prepping for marriage at such a young age? Couldn't their parents have waited until they were older to speak of this? And, marrying the Dark Lord's daughter was going to have it's own set of dangers and discomforts. That would mean, technically, that the Dark Lod would one day be...oh, no. No. He tried not to think about it. The Dark Lord: his future father-in-law.

Later that night, there came a knock on Draco's door just as he was about to change and get ready for bed.

"Yes?" he called from the opposite side of the room, where he'd been sitting writing a letter to Blaise at the little table near the terrace.

His mother entered quietly and took a seat across from her son at the table. She watched him write for a little bit longer, but when he finished a paragraph she gently touched his arm to pull him away from his task. He looked up into her clear eyes.

"Did you talk to her?" he asked.

Narcissa, it had been decided unanimously, was probably the best person to go and talk to Arabella after she had calmed down. Following dinner, she had excused herself to do just that. Draco assumed she had reported back to the Dark Lord before checking in with him, but the late hour indicated she'd been with Arabella for quite some time.

"Yes," she nodded. "And Severus is talking to her now."

Draco nodded, just a twinge of jealousy pitting itself in his stomach at the thought that she would talk to a profesor and not him. "She's not ask angry with him as she once was, I assume?" Draco asked, referring to Arabella's outburst when Snape had returned to the Dark Lord. Although he hadn't been present, he'd heard about it. She'd screamed herself hoarse calling him a traitor and accusing him of all sorts of treachery. The Dark Lord had tried to step in, but upon Snape's request, he allowed Arabella to say her piece.

"She's calmed down," Narcissa confirmed, "especially with regards to him, as you saw at tea today. Plus, Severus knows how to handle her. Apparently he was sort of an advisor to her at Hogwarts, a father-figure almost."

A comfortable silence fell upon them, but Draco knew it wouldn't last for long.

"Draco, dear," Narcissa began, trying to be as kind as possible, "she's still troubled with the marriage arrangement."

"Somehow I'm not surprised," Draco said snidely.

Narcissa glared at him, "You need a dose of compassion. Remember, this is all new to her."

Draco sighed, feeling only slightly guilty for his previous comment, "I know, I know."

"I think she's depressed," Narcissa said frankly. "That's why Severus is talking with her, since he probably had the most consistent contact with her at Hogwarts. He might come up with some potions to help. He'll be giving her some for Dreamless Sleep tonight."

"You think she's _clinically_ depressed?" he asked, unbelieving.

Draco looked at his mother as if she'd grown another head. If depression was ever an issue in the Pureblood household, it was never talked about.

"Perhaps only temporarily, but I'm not sure," Narcissa amended, "I think she misses her friends and the consistency of the Hogwarts schedule. Diggory's death and the events of this year are enough to cause some depressive symptoms in anyone. I imagine she feels a little like she is drowning in this new lifestyle and culture. That would explain her lack of appetite and general apathy."

Draco could see how Narcissa might jump to that conclusion. Especially since Arabella had been anything but her cheery, exuberant self.

"I gave her this advice, and I'm giving it to you as well in hopes this will help a little," Narcissa interrupted Draco's thoughts. "I advise you two to become friends. Friendship, whether or not it leads to a passionate love, will be the defining foundation of your marriage."

Narcissa looked at her son pointedly, he had reverted into that teenage boy posture that said he didn't want to hear it: slouched back, arms crossed, eyes averted and slightly rolled. She knew this was an uncomfortable topic, especially since he _did_ have feelings for Arabella. _That must be why she's torturing me_, Draco thought to himself.

"And Draco?" she tried to get his attention again, "When you look after her this school year?"

She paused, ensuring he was listening.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Do so with the attitude of love, not the attitude of power and control."

Draco looked at her. He'd not thought about it that way before, seeing as his instructions from the Dark Lord were from a perspective of manipulation.

"It will go a long way toward showing her you care," she finished.

Draco just nodded, not quite sure how he was going to manage that and not knowing how to respond. Narcissa patted his hand sweetly, kissing his forehead and taking her leave.

_A/N: THIS IS BEEN REWRITTEN! Sorry the first time I posted, I had Severus Snape's return-to-the-Dark-Lord date wrong. :D_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Discaimer:**_ I don't own Harry Potter

_AN: I realize I screwed up on the last chapter. Snape returns to Voldy a few hours after the others, not several weeks. My bad. It has been rewritten/reworked considerably. Please go re-read/skim the new portions (and be advised to the portions that were deleted and may reappear later) so we are all on the same page. Thanks!_

_...And remember, I respond really well to reviews (wink wink)._

IV. August

When Arabella arrived at the breakfast table the next morning, she was more put together than Draco would have expected. She was dressed in a lavender dress with white and pale yellow daisies on it. Her hair was brushed out and straight, half of it pulled back by a little claw clip in the back that was decorated with a white flower. She didn't smile, but she kept herself from frowning as she greeted everyone at the table: the Malfoys and Snape.

She sat next to Draco, and placed a napkin in her lap. None too soon a purple mug appeared with tea in it and a plate of eggs and toast followed. She diligently buttered her toast as she waited for the salt and pepper to hobble over from their place in the middle of the table, but before they arrived the silence was first broken by Snape.

"How did you sleep last night?" he asked.

Draco looked at her for her answer, intrigued.

"Well," she said, and then added, "Dreamlessly. Thank you."

Severus nodded politely, taking a sip of coffee and grasping the section of the Daily Prophet handed to him by Lucius. Draco caught sight of the article his father was pointing at just before Snape folded it to hide it. Something about Harry Potter and Dumbledore being crazy. Draco stole a glance at Arabella, who was carefully eating her eggs. Her movements were so slow and deliberate, he wondered if she were forcing herself to eat instead of actually enjoying the food. He caught Severus eyeing her over his paper as well.

Draco waited for his coffee to refill itself as he listened to the conversation his mother and father were having about one of the news articles. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arabella put her fork down and sit back, sipping her tea. She'd done a wonderful job of pushing the food around on her plate, but the volume of eggs she'd started with hadn't diminished much.

Snape looked at them from over his paper, "Finished already, Miss Riddle?"

"I'm just not hungry," she said. "Plus, I'm not nearly as active as I am at school, so you can't expect me to eat as much.'  
>"Yes, of course," Snape conceded, but continued, "But you aren't eating at all."<p>

"I did!" she insisted. She'd now drawn the attention of both adult Malfoys. Narcissa had a pained expression on her face.

"I'll make you a deal," Severus put his paper down. "I'll let you use my owl to write a letter to Potter _and_ Granger today if you finish your eggs and half a piece of toast."

Arabella grimaced.

"Perhaps you would like something else to eat, Miss Riddle?" Narcissa stepped in. "If you don't like eggs, perhaps oatmeal? Or some pancakes?"

"No, no," Arabella insisted, never wanting to be a problem. "This is simply lovely. I just never seem to have an appetite."

Severus and Narcissa exchanged pointed glances. This was what his mother had meant by Arabella being depressed.

"Two letters? And I get to read what's already come in?" she confirmed, eyeing her food as if it were a live scorpion.

Snape nodded, "Of course, everything will be screened for content, but yes."

Arabella sighed, picked up her fork and jabbed a clump of eggs and bravely brought them to her mouth.

With a crooked brow and a sly grin, Snape returned to his paper, but not without shooting glances her way every now and then, the smug look of triumph never leaving his face.

So, it was with a quill, ink and parchment in hand that Arabella entered the upstairs library with a long-missed look of delight on her face. Her journal and novel were also tucked under her armpit, and Draco couldn't help but notice a slight jaunt in her steps. He'd been sitting on the couch waiting for her to arrive. She'd been allowed to go read the letters that had already arrived from her friends, but until now, had remained unopened and unread. Of course, Snape, Lucius and the Dark Lord had screened them first, but they had apparently found no spells nor any forbidden content. Draco continued to read, but couldn't help but betray a slight smile. As miffed as he was that (1) she hadn't said a word to him today; (2) Snape had been the one to get her to eat and to smile; and (3) she was only happy because she was now allowed correspondence with her friends so as to maintain the friendships for spying's sake, Draco couldn't help but be happy that she was happy. Okay, maybe saying Arabella was _happy_ was a stretch—but at least she wasn't sobbing or yelling or miserable.

He watched her as she carefully arranged her ink and quill and parchment. She sat down carefully in a cushioned chair and began to write. She spent an hour on one letter alone, before even beginning the next. At some points in the letter, she would stop to pause and look out the window, her brow furrowed in concentration. At other times, she would smile to herself and suppress a giggle. Lunch arrived, which she ignored until she had finished. Draco's mood grew darker and darker. How could it be that she had so much to say to her friends who weren't even here and absolutely nothing to say to him? Surely if she could write a novel to them in one afternoon, she could carry on a simple conversation with him as to what was going on in her head.

"Trinky!" Arabella called when she had finished and had packed up the ink and quill. There was no parchment left.

"Yes, Mistress?" the little elf appeared with a pop!

"Will you go tell Professor Snape that I've finished, please?"

"Yes, Mistress," Trinky bowed low, until her nose grazed the ground

"Thank you!" Arabella called after her as she went pop! "I don't think she heard me."

"You don't need to say please and thank you to them, you know," Draco drawled from the corner.

Arabella looked up at him. This was the first time they'd spoken all day. Arabella got up and finally came to eat her lunch, which had remained untouched. Draco got up from the window seat he had gone to brood in and sat across from her as she uncovered a platter laden with food for her: A sandwich, chips, raw veggies and dip, an apple, some red grapes, lemonade and a brownie.

"How much do they think I can eat?" she exclaimed. Her happy face turned to a grimace again.

"Is there something else you'd rather eat?"

Arabella looked at the food, and Draco could hear her stomach growl.

"No, no," she said. "It looks wonderful. I just don't know why I am never hungry anymore."

She covered the food back up again as Snape entered.

"You are finished, Miss Riddle?" he asked, closing the library door behind him as he came.

"Yes, sir."

"And how did lunch go?"

She looked away.

"We had a deal," he admonished her.

"What is it with you people and food?" she said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. Draco was taken aback by her tone, but Snape seemed un-phased by it. Did she always talk to him this way? Why had her sarcasm only returned with the reemergence of Snape? Hadn't she been livid with him just yesterday? Draco grumbled, his mood now black.

"Narcissa Malfoy has been worried sick about you. She says you've lost at least five kilos since the beginning of summer. And you'd already lost that much between the Final Task and the end of term. You were already tiny to begin with and now you look like a supermodel."

"Well, thank you!" she said, too perkily.

"That wasn't a compliment," Snape said curtly.

"It's true, Arabella," Draco cut in, "Mother's been in a tizzy trying to figure out what you will eat. Hence the tray," he said, motioning to the food she'd just covered up. "She hopes if she sends you a little bit of everything, she'll finally find something you'll like."

"I'm just not hungry!" Arabella threw her hands up, exasperated. "Is that a crime?"

The two men looked at her. Snape's eyebrows were raised, his lips puckered. Draco gave her a pointed look.

"Not to mention, my father got in plenty of trouble for you showing up sickly at the beginning of the summer," Draco pointed out.

"Don't try and guilt trip her, Draco," Severus reprimanded.

Draco felt cut deeply, and felt even more bitter and angry than ever.

"And I'm sure you feel like manipulating her into eating by promising her letters is much better?" he ranted.

"She gets what she wants, I get what I want," Severus reasoned, his voice curt. "Tit for tat. Quid pro quo."

"You two do realize I'm still in the room, right?" Arabella said, rolling her eyes. "I don't understand why everyone talks about me like I'm not here! Volde—_ahem—_Father does it too."

Severus turned away from Draco and back to Arabella.

"Now, we had a deal. I don't send the letters unless you eat."

"How much?" Arabella, looked at the silver platter with it's cover as if it contained a severed head.

"Let me see," Snape nodded at the platter.

She uncovered the food, and Snape's eyes bugged out a little, "You weren't kidding when she said she was trying everything, Draco."

Draco was so angry he didn't even bother to smirk.

They negotiated a trade—food for letters—and after she'd eaten, Snape took her down to have the letters read by the aforementioned adults. That left Draco, brooding, upstairs. His arms were still crossed as he leaned back into the couch cushion, not bothering to take his shoes off as he propped his feet on the couch. No one was here to find out. He grumbled and sighed and sneered. Arabella had come out of her shell for a _professor_! Snape! What could possibly have occurred between the end of term, when she'd been furious with him, and breakfast today that had changed her demeanor? Draco had spent all summer with her and nothing! Nothing! He humphed. But no one was there to notice. He was all alone. And then he caught sight of it, lying there on the table where Arabella had been writing her letters. Her journal. He looked around sneakily, still alone. And no one would know if he took a quick peek, right?

He stood from his spot, sending one more guilty glance toward the door. He reached the table and spread out a hand to grab the journal. No. He shouldn't. It was violating her privacy. And if she ever found out, she would never forgive him. And then they'd be in a real pickle, having to marry each other while one hated the other. But then again, she'd so infuriated him with her behavior—she hadn't even tried to be friends!-that she sort of deserved it. And, it was possible he would be able to glean information that would help him befriend her if he could get inside her head. And thus the battle of man vs. ferret inside him began again. But his dark mood and resentment at her interaction with Snape swayed the result considerably. The ferret in him won.

He left the journal where it was on the table, so that if anyone entered, he could just shut it and act like he was looking at the books in the bookcase. But he carefully lifted the flap and began to page through the various entries. Draco stopped on the date of the selection of the Triwizard Tournament Champions, Halloween. He noticed she'd drawn a little jack-o-lantern next to the date, and charmed it to do a little dance.

_October 31, 1994_

_Happy Halloween!_

_Alright, I'm cutting to the chase here. So, for some outrageous reason, Harry's name was pulled from the Goblet of Fire tonight. I know. Preposterous, right? Apparently, the entrance of his name into the Goblet was a binding contract of the magical sorts (meaning, extra binding!) and he has to participate. Even though he didn't enter his name. _

_Oh, but the drama doesn't end there. Oh no, to think that would be a folly! Obviously, you've not been listening to me over the past three years of our ridiculously out-of-the-ordinary adventures at Hogwarts. (To think being a witch wasn't out-of-the-ordinary enough!). Ron is furious with Harry for not "filling him in" on how he got past the Age Line. Ron thinks Harry put in his own name. You know, for eternal glory and fame. As if Harry didn't have his own problems. Personally, I believe Harry. I don't think he put his name in, especially based on his facial expression after his name was called. Not to mention, if he'd simply got past the Age Line, that still wouldn't explain why there is a 4th Champion, when there should only be 3. I think Hermione agrees with me, but she's trying to get Ron to calm down. The boys currently aren't speaking. _

_But, I'm sure it'll all blow over, right? Boys don't hold grudges nearly as long as girls do._

_Off to bed—Harry and I are going down to the Quidditch pitch tomorrow morning._

_Xo,_

_Bella_

_November 2, 1994._

_You know how I said it would all blow over? I was so wrong._

_Save me,_

_Bella_

Draco smirked. He'd remembered the fractured Quartet. For once, not seen in the halls all together. Arabella and Granger had tried to keep the peace between the two boys, retain the friendship, but it hadn't worked. Hermione had worked on Ron, while Bella spent time with Harry. The Slytherins had all hoped that this had meant the end of the Golden Quartet. But after the first task, it all returned to normal. Draco flipped ahead to her entries from after that task and sure enough:

_November 24, 1994._

_Hallelujah! Harry made it through the first task alive! After all the drilling Hermione did with the Summoning Charm, he summoned his Firebolt beautifully! And he's tied for first with Krum. Ha! And he's the youngest by at least 2 years! Take that, you doubters! He now has a golden egg to crack. And no, this isn't something out of Willy Wonka. It shrieks. Loudly, and annoyingly. And, for a double Hallelujah, I'll tell you that Ron finally untwisted his knickers and is now talking to Harry again. He said that Harry would basically be bonkers to enter a contest like this willingly. To which I wanted to reply, "DUH!" But, whatever. Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed, "Boys." And we scurried off to bed to let them catch up on Quidditch or girls or the homework they don't do or whatever it is they talk about when we're not around. No tasks till after Christmas. We'll just be hanging on until then, concentrating on classes, and..._

_Okay, well, Harry is having dreams. Dreams about Voldemort. Vivid dreams about Voldemort. Vivid dreams about Voldemort where Voldemort is killing someone and hatching some creepy Voldemort-like plan. But isn't Voldemort dead? Wasn't he defeated when Harry survived the Killing Curse all those years ago? But then again there was Quirrell...and the memory in the diary. Is he alive? Harry's contacted Sirius, who is just as concerned given the Goblet of Fire and everything. Hermione wants Harry to go to Dumbledore, but of course Harry thinks he'd just be a bother. I mean, I can see both sides of the argument. But I'm getting concerned, too. He's in a lot of pain. I haven't seen him in this much pain since...since Quirrell, or the Chamber of Secrets. And we know how those ended. _

_Also, note to self: never read anything Rita Skeeter writes in the Prophet. No really, it's not worth it._

_Xo,_

_Bella_

Draco chuckled. He knew she'd had a sense of humor, he'd just not realized her enchanting ability to replicate it on paper. He'd only witnessed her humor second hand—overhearing her conversations with friends or professors. However, he found he missed hearing her snide sarcasm. But he frowned as he looked back on the entry. Potter had had nightmares prior to the Dark Lord's return? That seemed strange, and little too much like Dark Magic. He began flipping ahead. Every couple actual journal entries, there was a different kind of entry. There were poems, and fragments of conversations between people whose name's Draco didn't recognize. After scanning a few of these, he realized they were pieces of stories. Another entry was labeled "Real-life miracles;" and another "Forbidden Baby and Character Names." Draco chuckled as he read some of the names. "Fitzwilliam," "Apple," and "Bubba" were his particular favorites. Not all of them were in Arabella's handwriting, and he guessed she had let her friends contribute. As he continued flipping through the journal, he noticed that she was very diligent about her writing. The longest time she went without a journal entry was two or three days. As he approached the end of the written entries, he came to the 24th of June. She had written the entry at the very beginning of the day, before the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament. But when he turned the page, he noticed the date jumped ahead. Not just a few days, a month. She hadn't written in her diary since the morning of the last task. Well, that wasn't wholly true. She had written on the following page. Various dates had been written carefully, as if she had sat down to write, but each one—probably five or six in all—had been scratched out, as if she'd decided against it, or had been interrupted. But, that didn't make sense. She had curled up numerous times with that journal and a quill. He had seen her.

He rolled his eyes and slammed the journal shut. Of course! Invisible ink. And he didn't have his wand to reveal it. He leaned against the table with his arms crossed. And that's just when Arabella returned. When she entered, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of Draco. Her eyes narrowed and she matched his position, one hip jutted out and her arms crossed.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Hm?" he said nonchalantly. "Nothing, I was just trying to figure out what to read." He motioned towards the bookcase.

"You don't read," she said.

"I do too!"

"No, you don't. You just sit there, flipping pages every minute or so to make it sound and look like you are reading," she said as she approached him.

Draco studied her as she came near him. How was she so observant? He stayed put as she made a bee line for the table, where her books were, right where she'd left them. She excused herself, pointing to her books, indicating she'd like him to move so she could grab them. Draco didn't move. She cleared her throat.

"Need some water?" he asked snidely.

Arabella rolled her eyes, and without flinching, leaned over Draco to grab her books. She nearly lost her balance as she was weighed down with the tome that was her novel as well as the journal, but she caught herself. Draco resisted the urge to steady her by putting his hands on her hips, trying not to remember how it felt to carry her in his arms after she cut her foot at the Yule Ball. She eyed him suspiciously as she flipped through her journal quickly, turning away when she was satisfied.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" she asked as she sat on one of the couches.

His eyed the journal, knowing she'd used that phrase about Weasley. He watched her carefully as she pulled out her novel and flipped to the page that held her bookmark. It was only at the silence that she looked back up at him. Once he had her attention, he shifted only slightly, to cross his legs in front of him as he continued to lean most of his weight on the table.

"How is it that you have so much to say in the letters to Granger and Potter, but nothing to say to me?"

"Excuse me?" she said, obviously taken aback.

"You just spent a few hours writing to Granger and Potter—pages and pages—but you haven't said a word to me."

She looked at him, and she shook her head just barely, insignificantly, as if to clear cobwebs from her eyes. Was she finally seeing him, for the first time? But then, she suddenly looked away, and the hope that had floated to the top of the ocean in Draco's stomach sunk without pretense.

"Well, I'm very close to them. They are my best friends."

"Not anymore, they aren't," Draco replied snidely.

She looked back up at him, fire in her eyes.

"Yes, they are," she insisted.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Oh, grow up."

"You grow up," she stood. "Now I remember why I never talk to you."

She gathered her things and left the library.

"Where do you think you're going?" he called after her.

She ignored his comment as the library door slammed behind her.

Draco huffed with a frown. If only he had a wand, he could see what she was writing in the journal of hers. But none too soon, the frown reformed into a smug smirk of triumph. He had a plan.

The summer had been insufferably hot. But, when August rolled around, Draco refused to go outside for afternoon walks in the garden. He would just come back inside, sweaty and panting. Arabella stuck it out, as if it were her only chance at freedom. He would watch her, standing at the sliding window with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets, as she walked around the grounds, stopping only occasionally to smell a flower or watch one of the albino peacocks. Even she was affected by the heat. She walked more slowly, without the skipping and prancing about that she usually did to try and get some of the pent-up energy out. She would reenter, glowing and thirsty, but cheered slightly by the sunlight and fresh air.

On August 3rd, just as Arabella was finishing her walk, Draco was joined at the window by his father, who was oddly holding a glass of lemonade. In silence they stood and watched Arabella approach the glass door, which his father opened with a wave of his wand for her to enter.

"Good afternoon, Miss Riddle," Lucius said cordially, handing her the glass of lemonade. "I trust your walk was pleasant."

"Very, and thank you," she said taking the glace and greedily gulping it down.

Draco's eyes flicked toward his father's disapproving gaze, and when Arabella saw it as well, she made to slow down and nearly dripped lemonade all over herself.

"We don't usually see you during the afternoon, Mr. Malfoy. Is something wrong?" she asked.

"The trip to the Lake House has been reinstated," Lucius cut to the chase. "You are to leave immediately."

"So soon? Without packing?"

"The house elves will take care of that. Your luggage will follow," his father cut her off. "Narcissa is there already, and tea should be ready by the time you arrive," with another flick of his wand the now-empty lemonade glass vanished from Arabella's hand.

"You aren't coming with us?" Draco asked his father, trying to remain professional, though his heart was leaping with excitement at the thought of the Lake House.

"I have very important business to attend to here," he led them to the Travel Room, where they would Floo to the Lake House. "Perhaps I will be able to visit this weekend."

With a few instructions to Arabella, they flooed straight to the Lake House, where Narcissa greeted them with tea and cookies. A cool breeze fluttered the curtains as it passed through the window and into the kitchen. It carried the scent of the lake, making Draco smile sincerely. It was much cooler than in England, which meant some of Draco's favorite summer activities were in store: swimming, sailing, hiking and flying. At last!

Over the next couple of days, Draco showed Arabella around the lake and the small towns nearby. They still weren't really talking, aside from the obligatory small talk that came with living together. Arabella had never been sailing before, so that was one of the first things they did. She enjoyed it so much, they went every morning that first week. Afternoons were spent swimming at a nearby pool, taking walks, or seeing the towns. After dinner they would go flying over the lake, racing to catch Draco's snitch, and in the evening they would sit on the porch and read as the sun set. Draco was so used to doing all of these activities alone, it was a nice change to have company, and a dream come true for that company to be Arabella. She'd begun eating again, without blackmail or threat. She looked rested and bright-eyed, even cracking a joke or two at dinner. However, when it came to telling stories about school or her childhood, she remained mostly mute. Whenever Draco would offer a Hogwarts anecdote, she would add a little something, but never of a personal nature. Draco assumed that she thought she would get in trouble for talking about the orphanage or her friends. She was probably right. But trying to hold back almost everything was obviously taking a toll on her.

One evening, a week after they had arrived at the Lake House, they sat on the porch reading. Draco actually _was_ reading this time, absorbed in a book about Quidditch. Still, he caught himself stealing glances at Arabella when he paused to flip a page. At one point, he looked up to find she had put her book down and was instead gazing out across the lawn that swept down to the beach. Draco tried to seem absorbed in his book, but couldn't help watching her as she used her legs to move the swing back and forth. She stood suddenly and stuffed her feet into a pair of sandals that had been carefully placed underneath the swing. Draco looked up expectantly from his place, but Arabella gave no explanation as she left her novel behind and walked down the three steps off the porch and into the back yard.

Draco put his own book down, on the little glass table next to the rocking chair, stood and followed the girl as she made her way to the dock that led out onto the lake. He stopped at the entrance to the dock to watch her remove her shoes and sit at the end of the wooden planking, dangling her feet in the water. He knew where she was—he could even see her from the porch—it wasn't necessary that he go and sit on the dock with her. He'd still, technically, be keeping an eye on her. But Draco wasn't one to let a good excuse to be near the girl he fancied go by without fully manipulating it. So, carefully and slowly, he walked down the plank with his bare feet, taking in the sun and the view of the mountains. When he approached her, his presence was given away by his shadow, which reflected across the dock next to her and into the water. She didn't flinch.

"May I join you?" he asked. His voice hadn't been used for a few hours and nearly came out as a croak.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked snidely.

Draco thought for a moment. The ferret in him wanted to say no, but the man inside him who wanted to be her friend wanted to say yes. He knew that she just needed space and time to adjust. But, he wanted to relish every moment he could have with her.

So, the ferret in him won. Again.

Without asking, he sat down next to her, but not without noticing her shift slightly so as to put a few more inches between them. They sat in silence a moment. It was pleasant, not feeling like they were obligated to speak.

"It is beautiful here," Arabella finally spoke.

"Yes, it is," Draco agreed.

Silence fell upon them again. Draco rolled up his pants and placed his feet in the water with hers. She leaned back on her hands and lifted her face to the sky.

"I've missed the sun," she sighed. "It's almost like the sun hasn't shone since before the Final Task," she stated, referring to the Triwizard Tournament and the fateful night that followed.

"I know what you mean," he responded.

This made her look at him strangely, but he avoided her gaze until she leaned back again. What she didn't realize—and up until that moment, he hadn't either—was that she was his sun. And just as she felt the sun hadn't shone since the end of the school year, Draco felt the same. Arabella hadn't truly smiled or laughed since then. His sun had been covered by the clouds of her depression, and he had been just as downtrodden as a result.

"What do you mean by that?" she finally asked.

He looked at her puzzled. His mind had wandered so far since his last statement that he didn't remember what they'd been talking about.

"When you said 'I know what you mean.' What did you mean by that?" she clarified.

Draco thought for a moment, feeling a little like he was scrambling for the right thing to say—something half-truth, but that wouldn't give his feelings away.

"Just that—that—you haven't really been yourself since the end of the school year," he said.

"Oh?" she asked, her eyebrows raised.

"You haven't been eating, or smiling, or laughing, or making nearly as many sarcastic comments as you usually do."

She looked taken aback, "How would you know how I usually act?"

"Just because I'm a Slytherin male doesn't mean I'm not observant," he said haughtily.

"Perhaps," she said, leaning forward and bracing her hands on the edge of the dock, "But..." she trailed off. Draco felt both dread at the thought of her voicing what she was thinking and excitement at the possibilities of its content. "Nevermind." She shook her head as if to shake the thoughts from her head.

If they had been closer than just classmates in rivaling houses, Draco would have pressed her for what she was thinking, but he dropped it.

"You seem...happier here," Draco commented, "I mean, _here_ at the Lake House, _here_."

"It feels more like summer," she agreed. "And less like a prison."

Draco frowned, not knowing whether he was confused or hurt by the comment.

"Prison?"

"At the Manor," she admitted, "I feel more like a POW than anything else."

"Pee Oh Double You?" Draco was really confused.

Arabella's lips betrayed a smile at his confusion as she looked down into the clear water of the lake.

"It's an abbreviation for Prisoner of War."

Draco was silent as he tried to figure out what he was feeling and how to respond. He looked at Arabella, who pointedly looked away at his glance. He resisted the urge to do the same, and instead continued to look at her as she observed the water. He wanted to be angry and hurt that she felt like a prisoner. Why should she feel that way? Any of the Pureblood children he had grown up with would feel honored to be plucked from obscurity as an orphan into the lap of luxury living with the Malfoys with the esteem and privilege of being the Dark Lord's only scion.

"Why do you feel that way?" he finally asked, quite against his original intentions.

The look she gave him made him feel like stuffing those words back in his mouth and choking on them.

"I mean," he said, "I honestly don't understand."

"What don't you understand?" she sounded defensive. He decided not to point out the honor of being the Dark Lord's daughter, what with her being the Boy Who Lived's best friend and all. Instead he asked:

"Is living with us really so bad?"

Arabella's tense body relaxed slightly as her defenses dropped. Draco was glad for his careful word choice.

"I mean," Draco said, "I realize you aren't used to it. But we are your family now. And aside from those really awful extended family gatherings which everyone dreads, you shouldn't hate living with your family."

He felt his heart leap when he realized his disparaging remark about family gatherings made her smile. Oh, if he could make her smile again! Or even laugh!

"It's just—" she sighed, and turned to look at him. "How would you feel if you were suddenly told you were never a Pureblood and sent to live with—with—the Grangers, for example?"

Draco looked at her, completely appalled. Live with..._Mudbloods?_

"Exactly!" she said looking at her expression, knowing he was getting the gist of how she felt. "It's as if my whole life has been turned on its head!"

And then she visibly slumped, "I don't even know who I am anymore."

Draco didn't know how to respond to this.

"I could help you there," Draco offered, quite courageously considering how his heart was hammering at his chest, begging him to stop for fear he would make the wrong move.

"Are you saying you know who I am better than I do?" she asked, a little snippishly. "We're not even friends, Malfoy. We have never been cordial."

"That's not true," he defended himself, acting wounded. "I was very cordial to you that one time in Potions class. Third year—remember?"

He was referring to the day he had returned from class after being nearly murdered by that wild Hippogriff. Okay, maybe _murdered_ was a bit strong. Maimed. Injured. Okay, _scratched._ But still, he had nearly given himself away with how he'd behaved toward her that day in class.

"Ah yes," Bella nodded. "The day you insulted me and the followed it with a thank you? Yes, I remember it well. You were obviously still feeling the affects of Madame Pomfry's drugs from your little run-in with Buckbeak: one minute you were insulting me the next complimenting me."

"Okay, so we're not chums," Draco shrugged. "That can change."

He looked at Arabella, who looked away.

"What I'm trying to say is," Draco started. "I guess I don't really know what I'm trying to say."

She snickered, "Figures."

He realized he'd chickened out. What he really wanted to say was that he wanted to be friends, just as Mother had suggested. He knew that she was a beautiful, compassionate, intelligent and strong young woman who didn't need to feel as if her world were crashing around her just because she found out she wasn't an orphan anymore. She should be happy, and enjoy her summer, instead of being miserable by a life that always changes.

But somehow, Draco knew if he tried to say that, it would come out a jumbled mess.

"How deep is the lake?" Arabella asked suddenly.

"Seeing as it's reaching our feet on the dock, probably a good four-and-a-half or five meters. Why?"

Before he could say anything, she had pulled off the tank top she was wearing to reveal the swim wear Narcissa had picked out for her. And with a devilish grin that reminded Draco of a conniving Slytherin rather than a brave Gryffindor, she'd taken a running swan dive into the water. He leaned over the dock, looking for her to resurface. When she did, she gasped for air.

"Cold, isn't it?" he snickered, knowingly. He nodded up to the mountains, "Snow melt. Makes the lake really cold, even in August."

She floated on her back for a while, "You should come in. It's...refreshing."

"Maybe if you're a giant squid," he responded, knowing she was lying by her lips turning blue.

She lasted a few more minutes before she made for the dock, swimming with the long strokes of a trained swimmer. Draco stood to look down upon her drenched form as she started climbing the ladder up the dock from the water. As she reached up, half her body out of the water, she reached her hand for help. He held his out, shaking his head at her shivering form, her teeth chattering audibly. But, before he had a chance to fully grasp her hand and pull her up, she had yanked him so hard he was falling into the water. In an effort to not land on her head, he pushed off the dock with his foot to jump over her and land with no grace whatsoever with a splash in the water. When he came up, gasping as if the freezing water was crushing his rib cage, he could hear her laughing. His immediate anger and frustration melted to hear the beautiful sound and see her radiant smile—for once genuine.

"Why you little—" he growled, making to swim toward her, but she was already swimming for the dock again. He chased after her, clambering up the ladder after her. She swooped down to pick up her tank top and sandals, not bothering to put them on and made a break for the Lake House. Luckily, since he didn't have anything to pick up, he was able to make up some of the distance between them. However, when she got to the porch of the Lake House, she turned, placing her hands on her knees, panting.

"Okay, safe," she proclaimed between gasps and nursing the stitch in her side. Her golden blonde hair looked almost brown when wet, and it was clinging to her in stringy curls.

"Safe? There is no safe zone when you pull someone into freezing cold water!" he countered.

"No! No!" she panted, "The deck has to be a safe place."

"Otherwise I'll catch you—that's your only excuse. You know I'll win."

"Oh, no," she said, smiling, "I'm pretty sure I won this round."

He looked at her, narrowing his eyes. "Fine. But you should beware. Game on."

She stood up straight, eyeing him with a smirk. "Game on," she agreed.

But then, she caught her breath, and she took a good look at Draco. She cocked her head slightly to one side, as if remembering who he was, frowned and quickly ran into the house, leaving Draco completely confused.

"What happened?" Narcissa came out to ask her son, who was still standing, stunned and bewildered on the grass in front of the deck, soaking wet. "Arabella looked like she was crying."

"I—I really have no idea," Draco said.

"You both are soaked! Come in and dry off, I'll have some water heated for tea and cocoa."

Thirty minutes later, Draco had showered, dried off and devoured a large piece of cake and some tea. He had heard the water running upstairs, where Arabella's room was, but since then, only silence.

His mother sat writing a letter at the small desk in the family room. Draco went and leaned against the wall in the room, waiting for her attention to be naturally drawn to his presence. It didn't take long.

"What's the matter, darling?" she asked, signing her name at the edge of the parchment and replacing her quill.

Draco explained what had happened before Arabella had dashed into the house. He expressed his confusion over her reaction and concern that she hadn't yet appeared after showering. His mother, as always, listened with patience and caring.

"Would you like me to go check on her?"

Draco nodded.

Draco stayed where he was. He heard his mother climb the stairs and knock on the door that was Arabella's bedroom. He heard the door open. There were voices, but he couldn't quite make out the words. There was a brief conversation and soon the door closed again. His mother descended the stairs again.

"She'll be down in a bit," his mother patted his arm.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. She asked me to dry her hair for her so she could brush it out. That's all."

Draco looked at her suspiciously. It seemed to him his mother was hiding something.

"You know girls, we take longer to get clean and ready," she smiled kindly.

When Arabella descended, her hair was dry and straight flowing down her back with a braid wrapped around her head like a headband. She looked fine, until Draco caught sight of her face. She'd been crying again. They'd had fun at the lake, right? Why was she in despair again?

"Would you like some tea or cocoa? I imagine the lake was very cold," his mother said, from her perch at the desk again.

"It was," Arabella nodded, "Some cocoa might be nice."

"Anything else? A piece of cake maybe?"

The blond shook her head slowly, "I'm not very hungry. But thank you."

Draco shook his head as his mother went to instruct the house elves to prepare some cocoa.

He left his place still leaning against the wall and took a seat on the couch. When her cocoa arrived, Arabella took her usual spot on the window seat, her legs tucked under her, staring out the window.

"The sun hasn't set yet," Narcissa broke the silence. "You two should go flying around the lake."

Draco looked at Arabella for a response. She just looked at him.

"There's a nice park around the block, you could take a walk..."

Silence.

"What about a puzzle? Or a game?"

"I like puzzles," Arabella finally spoke. "What are Wizarding puzzles like?"

After a solid two weeks at the Lake House, they returned to the Manor. As per tradition, no news or mail was diverted to the Lake House during their vacation, so Draco expected to return to two weeks worth of mail, including, he hoped, his letter from Hogwarts. What he didn't expect was the pile of letters also waiting for Arabella. Of course, all of them had been opened and read already, but her pile was substantially larger than his. It was through these letters, and the pile of _Daily Prophet_s that Lucius had kept and stacked on the dining room table, that Draco and Arabella learned of the Dementor attack on Harry Potter and the subsequent trial. Granger had written Arabella twice a day over the ten days marking the time between the attack and trial. Draco had finished his letters before Arabella had really made a dent in hers, and had continued on to read the _Daily Prophet_ articles, which defamed both Potter and Dumbledore as crazy and attention-seeking. He watched her over the paper as she read, her brow furrowed with an expression of mixed concern and anger. Lucius sat at the head of the dining table, sitting back in his chair with his hands folded in his lap. His signature smirk exuded the condescending haughtiness of a Malfoy as he watched Arabella grow more and more agitated. Draco couldn't tell if his father was taking pleasure in her discomfort with the situation, or was just amusedly awaiting her outburst.

After finishing the letters, Draco offered her a paper, which she refused, "I've read enough."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," Draco mumbled, commenting on her voracious appetite for books, which was only second to Granger's.

"Do you know who sent the Dementors?" Arabella asked Lucius cautiously.

He smiled knowingly, "I believe it has been officially determined that the Dementors were rogue, Miss Riddle. As it stated in the Prophet, no one knows why they were out of Azkaban."

"Yes, but perhaps you have more information than the _official_ report," she continued. Lucius didn't flinch. Strangely enough, neither did Arabella, "If I'm not mistaken, Dementors only follow instructions from the Ministry of Magic. Or their _supposed to._"

"You are correct."

"So someone sent them."

There was silence. Lucius and Arabella stared each other down. Arabella narrowed her eyes for a moment. Draco could see the wheels in her head turning, trying to work the whole situation out.

"But it wasn't my father" she determined. Draco looked at her strangely. How could she know that? When she was met with silence, she sighed. "I've been invited to come and stay with the Weasleys for a week."

"Ah, yes," Lucius' smile seemed to widen, "Arthur mentioned that when I saw him the other day."

"You were there—at the trial? Why?" Arabella burst out, curiously.

"I was not present at the trial," Lucius corrected tartly, "However, I did have business with the Minister of Magic that day, and went down to meet him. I ran into Potter and Arthur Weasley as they were leaving."

"What did they say?"

"Nothing of importance," Lucius waved the comment away. "He did however mention that you were welcome to come to stay for the rest of the summer."

Arabella looked at him expectantly.

"You don't actually think your father would allow—"

"—but it would keep the facade up and allow me to spy!" Arabella reasoned.

"_Arabella!_" Draco hissed, incredulous that she would even ask.

"And you expect us to believe that is your only reason for wanting to go? And that you will actually do the spying? No one will be there to keep you accountable."

"Snape will."

Lucius looked at her strangely.

"You don't actually think that Dumbledore would allow Harry to be spending his summer without a guard of some sort, do you? Not after the return of Father," she reasoned with expertise. Had she practiced this? "And, if Dumbledore trusts Snape, he'll be around."

"How did you know—" Lucius began.

Arabella raised her eyebrows, but Lucius caught himself from revealing inside information.

"About the guards? Or Snape being around?" Arabella tried to complete his sentence.

Draco was impressed. He'd not seen anyone bait his father like Arabella just did.

"I'm not stupid," Arabella replied.

"No one was implying you were, Miss Riddle," Lucius said. "Quite to the contrary..."

"May I go stay with the Weasley's for the rest of the summer?" Arabella reframed the question.

"No," came the curt response.

Arabella looked at her guardian, but Lucius held her gaze with such intensity, she was forced to hang her head in resignation.

"May I please be excused?" she said quietly, after a moment of silence.

"Yes, you may," Lucius stated politely.

With that, she gathered her letters and left the dining room. Draco sat his chair and watched her leave. He stared after her a moment, before looking back at the _Prophet_. There was a very unflattering picture of Potter on the front page.

"Hence the Lake House," Draco said quietly. He knew his father would know what he meant.

"Hence the Lake House," his father confirmed.

There was a long pause of silence.

"We knew her reaction would be much more...dramatic, if she'd been here and heard about everything as it was happening."

"Are you going to make us disappear every time something happens?" Draco asked.

"Until Arabella can temper herself, we'll have to. It was better to let everything play itself out, don't you think?"

"You mean, it was easier to control her reaction?" Draco translated.

"Yes," Lucius didn't even try to sugar-coat it.

"And this responsibility will fall on you and Professor Snape when you return to Hogwarts," his father continued, his voice growing more and more stern. "It is up to you to make sure she doesn't step out of line. Do not fail the Dark Lord."

"Yes, Father," Draco nodded, meeting the steely eyes of his father, which threatened misery if he did fail.

"You must learn to control her. Especially if you are to be married, Draco. She must learn to submit to you and to the Dark Lord."

Draco found he could no longer meet his father's gaze. Did Lucius know about his conversation with Narcissa? Their advice was identically opposite in the most eery way.

"Obedience, Draco. Every one must know their place," Lucius said, as he stood. "And Arabella's is beneath her father as daughter, and beneath you as wife."

Draco just nodded as he father slapped him on the shoulder and exited the dining room.

This idea of obedience was not new to Draco, he'd heard it all before. He'd been brought up with the knowledge of his place—within the family and society. He'd been taught very well from birth the hierarchy of the magical world. But for some reason, he suddenly felt uncomfortable with it. At least as it pertained to his relationship with Arabella. He wondered if that had to do with the advice his mother had provided. Draco threw the paper across the table and put his head in his hands with his elbows resting on the table. Was he going soft? Or was his discomfort a result of his admiration and affection for Arabella's feisty character, witty intelligence and strong sense of self—all things he would have to suppress according to the Malfoy way. Was that really what he wanted?

He shook his head and stood. He couldn't think about this right now, he decided. Not with the Dark Lord and Snape, two powerful Legilimens, and his father, who was disturbingly observant, lurking about and keeping an eye on him. He would table this until he got to school, and instead concentrate on how he was going to get to know Arabella better when she wouldn't even talk to him.

_AN: PLEASE please PLEASE review!_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer:**_ _I do not own Harry Potter! It belongs to the esteemed JK Rowling!_

**V. The Visits**

Somehow, with the help of Snape and Narcissa, Arabella finagled her way into getting permission from her father to have exactly one week with the Weasleys. Lucius was furious with his wife and with Snape for going against his wishes and his original decree, but there was no arguing with or resentment toward the Dark Lord. That would be suicide. Snape had promised he'd already planned to visit the Weasleys multiple times over that week, so it would be no problem to check in on Arabella and extract any information from her. Narcissa argued that a trip to see her former friends might help revive Arabella's spirit after a summer of too-many changes. So, it was with all of those sound arguments, and the slight chance that pertinent inside information might result, that the Dark Lord allowed his daughter to visit the blood traitors and muggle lovers for the second to last week of summer break.

As the date approached, Arabella grew cheerier and cheerier, making Draco's mood darken considerably. It was so bad, his mother surprised him with an impromptu gathering of his best school chums on the afternoon after Arabella left.

"It's worse than I thought, Crabbe," came the familiar voice of Blaise Zabini. Draco turned from where he stood, staring out the window in the parlor to see Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle enter.

"Merlin, Draco, it's depressing, seeing you in this state," Blaise came forward, shaking Draco's hand and clapping him on the back.

Draco rolled his eyes, "My mother sent for you, didn't she?"

Crabbe and Goyle nodded in unison.

"Thought you might need a night with the boys now that Bell—I mean, _Ara_bella is gone for the week," Blaise supplied.

Draco rolled his eyes, "I'm fine."

"Could've fooled me," Blaise retorted, adjusting Draco's collar as if he hadn't been dressing himself properly or something. "C'mon, let's get a little Quidditch game going..."

After returning sweaty and exhausted from flying all afternoon, the boys devoured a plate of sandwiches and fruit left for them by the House Elves and retired to the Living Room to relax.

"What _is_ going on with Arabella?" Goyle asked Draco after they'd settled down.

Draco shifted in his seat, leaning back into the couch cushions so as to appear nonchalant about it all.

"Nothing really."

"What d'ya mean 'Nothing really,' Draco? She's been here all summer!" Crabbe exclaimed.

Draco shrugged. He still wasn't in the mood for this particular conversation. "She doesn't like it here."

"You still aren't talking?" Blaise asked, interpreting Draco's answer and referring vaguely to the letter Draco had written him earlier in the summer. Draco shook his head, no, in response.

"Draco, mate, it's been two months!"

"I know! I know!" Draco said, sitting forward and running his hands through his hair. He didn't need this from Zabini, too. He'd had enough poking and prodding from his parents. "I wish it were that simple."

The three boys looked at him funnily. So, a reluctant Draco heaved a sigh and explained the whole marriage agreement between their parents.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Blaise said, a huge grin on his face, "You're going to marry Bella?"

"It's not funny. And yes. Someday," Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend. "And it's _Ara_bella, you prat."

Zabini clutched his stomach as he roared with laughter. "You! And No Name! That's got to be priceless. The only thing worse would be you and Granger—"

Crabbe and Goyle were chuckling too, but if Draco had to put money on it, they were just following Zabini's lead. One withering glance sent their way and they shut up instantly. It took a moment for Zabini to calm down, but when he did, he sobered up at the sight of Draco's furious expression.

"She's the Dark Lord's daughter," Draco reminded Blaise. "Don't forget that."

"I don't think anyone could," Blaise said seriously. "Most especially her."

Draco looked away, taking a sip of lemonade.

"Have you told Pansy yet?" Goyle interrupted.

"No," Draco winced at the mention of her name.

Crabbe and Goyle both looked at Draco pointedly. He looked at each boy in turn, not able to hold one gaze for too long.

"I know, I know," he conceded. "I will."

"I thought you broke it off," Blaise said.

"Yeah, me too," Draco mumbled. "I tried to, at least, at the end of the school year. But she wouldn't have it. She took it as me saying I just needed a break, not that it was _over_ over."

"Girls," Blaise rolled his eyes. "That's why I never get officially involved."

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes, "Blaise, even if you don't call it a _relationship_, you are still _officially_ involved."

"Only in their minds," he crossed his arms, looking smug.

"You've got to tell Pansy," Goyle insisted. Draco looked at Goyle. Goyle had fancied Pansy for too long, and Draco was starting to feel a little bad about it. "She's in love with you, mate. And you know it," Goyle finished.

An uncomfortable silence fell on the group, as Draco couldn't come up with a response to this, especially knowing how Goyle felt about her.

"So what do _you_ think of all this marriage nonsense?" Blasie asked, breaking the awkward silence as he perched on the armrest of the love seat where Arabella usually sat. "Because we know what Arabella thinks."

Draco narrowed his eyes at this comment, but Blaise held up his hands in defense, "You know what I mean."

"Yes, unfortunately I do," Draco conceded.

"And don't go babbling off that Pureblood, 'it's an honor to marry the Dark Lord's daughter' rubbish either. What do you _really _think?"

Draco looked at Blaise. They'd been friends for too long. Blaise knew Draco too well, and for once, Draco was glad for it. He needed someone to confide in, someone outside the situation who would understand where he was coming from. You know, as a teenage boy and all.

"I think it's a bit early for us to be thinking about marriage," Draco reasoned.

"Sure, but it's not like they want you to get married next week, or even in a year, right?"

"No, no," Draco confirmed. "It's open-ended, actually. And I assume Arabella won't want to even think about it until after graduating from Hogwarts."

Draco paused, looking down at the carpet, "If she even thinks about it all," he said miserably.

When Draco looked up again, Blaise was looking at him strangely, his brown eyes bugged out slightly and his mouth minutely agape.

"_What_?" Draco hissed.

"You like her! That's why you broke it off with Pansy at the end of the year!" Blaise burst out. "You _fancy_ Arabella!"

Draco crossed his arms and settled back into the couch cushions.

"And he doesn't even deny it!" he exclaimed to Crabbe and Goyle, motioning with a broad sweep of his hand at Draco. And then, turning back to the blond, "How long?"

"Does it really matter?"

"No, but I want to know!"

"Blaise..." Draco growled.

"Come on, Draco!" Goyle piped in this time.

"I've probably fancied her a long time," Draco sighed, "but I didn't realize it until I saw her at the Yule Ball."

"Yeah, she did look mighty fine," Blaise agreed.

"Blaise!"

"Sorry, mate. But can you blame me?"

Draco chuckled, finally relaxing and easing into the attention from his friends and the strange school-boy giddiness that came with talking about one's crush.

"No," he grinned, "I suppose I can't, Blaise."

Draco finally built up the courage to tell Pansy the morning before Arabella returned. Their mothers were close friends, and were meeting for brunch that day, so it was a very simple task of asking Narcissa to invite Pansy as well. When his mother looked at him curiously, Draco respectfully requested her not to ask. And she obliged.

"Drakey!" Pansy immediately ran to fling her arms around Draco, pressing a kiss onto his neck. "Oh, how I've missed you!"

Draco attempted to delicately remove the clinging girl from his person, but she seemed to have the claws of death. He looked at his mother pleadingly for assistance.

"So what have you been up to this summer, Pansy?" his mother asked politely, requiring Pansy to remove herself from Draco in order to answer respectfully. All through brunch, Pansy and her mother chatted on and on about their trip to Rome and their shopping spree in Paris. Draco couldn't remember being so disinterested in a conversation in his life. He spent the hour trying to think of how best to permanently sever his relationship with Pansy.

"Excuse me, Mother, Mrs. Parkinson," he stood as the meal wound down, "May I speak with Pansy privately in the Parlor?"

"Why, of course, Draco!" Mrs. Parkinson agreed. "What wonderful manners your son has, Cissy," she turned to his mother.

In good Pureblood form, Draco helped Pansy from her seat and offered her an arm to lead her to the Parlor. He sent his mother one more look, which she returned with a knowing smile and a nod. He knew she would be warning Mrs. Parkinson for him, which he was incredibly grateful for, given his mother's impeccable ability to be distantly politic and lovingly personal at the same time.

As soon as they'd entered the Parlor and Draco had shut the door, Pansy launched herself at him again. He quickly side-stepped her, and her response was a very hurt look and feigned pout.

"Please sit, Pansy. We need to talk," Draco said, quite seriously. He'd been dreading this moment since the announcement of his betrothal to Arabella. Pansy despised Arabella, despite her relation to the Dark Lord, and Pansy was not going to take this well.

"What's wrong, Drakey?" she asked, sinking down into the love seat. "I thought you'd invited me to brunch as well so we could get back together."

_You would think that_, Draco thought to himself, smoothing back his slicked-back hair.

"Pansy, I don't think you fully understood me at the end of term," Draco began. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but you believed I just wanted a little time to myself? A short break?"

She nodded emphatically.

"That wasn't exactly what I was saying," he said, slowing his words down slightly.

"What are you saying, Drakey?" she said, her words also drawn out.

"It's over, Pansy. I'm breaking it off."

"What?" she shrieked. "Why? Drakey we're in love!"

"You are in love, Pansy. But I don't feel the same way. This relationship isn't healthy," he supplied.

"You are being ridiculous!" she accused. "That little Gryffindor twit has brain-washed you this summer!"

"I'd decided this _long_ before Arabella's past was revealed," Draco growled at her. "And she is _not_ a _twit_."

"You are _defending_ her? After all these years!"

"She is the Dark Lord's daughter. Show some respect, Pansy."

"She doesn't deserve it! She grew up a Muggle. She has no concept of _our ways_."

"Don't let the Dark Lord hear you speak that way," Draco warned.

"Drakey," she whined, no longer defensive, but suddenly playing the part of damsel-in-distress. Her acting was terrible, her personality change jarringly instantaneous. "Don't let her come between us," she whispered. She stood and came to take his collar in her fists.

Draco took a step back and she let out a sort of whine at his movement.

"Pansy, Arabella and I are betrothed."

"_WHAT?_" her voice was loud and shrill. Draco refrained from wincing as she exploded, screaming at him. "YOU WOULD CHOOSE _HER_ OVER _ME?"_

It was then that her mother burst in, taking her daughter in her arms protectively. Pansy went from angry to sobbingly hurt in that instant. Draco shook his head at her theatrics.

"It was an agreement by our parents before we were born," Draco said, his voice dry and emotionless. He didn't really care if she was forgiving about it, he just wanted her to understand. There was no going back.

"It's probably best we go," Mrs. Parkinson said, her arms around her daughter, but her voice apologetic. "Come on, Pansy."

She guided her daughter to the fireplace, but just before they Floo-ed, Mrs. Parkinson sent Draco an apologetic look. When the flames had engulfed them, Narcissa came to wrap an arm around her son.

"Mrs. Parkinson understands," she said, trying to comfort him. And then shaking her head, confused, "She even seemed to pity you."

Draco looked at his mother, not confused at all. "They think Arabella unworthy," he explained.

Narcissa wrinkled her brow and nodded, understanding the perspective, while disagreeing completely, "Pansy'll come around eventually," she squeezed Draco's arm comfortingly.

"Or not," Draco said aloud exactly what he was thinking.

Much to his surprise, his mother chuckled at this, "Or not," she agreed.

The family gathered in the travel room to greet Arabella when she returned. She was, as to be expected, fifteen minutes late. It seemed to Draco that the Weasleys were always running late—and with so many kids, perhaps it was to be expected. She came through the Floo with her book bag and a small duffle bag in hand, one last giggle on her lips, her hair tied in a messy bun with a colorful headband to keep the fly-aways at bay. The smile on her lips faded slightly, but it didn't leave her eyes as she stepped out of the fireplace, placing her bags on the floor.

"Welcome home!" Narcissa stepped forward to give a Pureblood hug. Arabella smiled sincerely and returned the affection.

"_What are you wearing_?" Lucius hissed, looking Arabella up and down.

Narcissa rounded on him, sending him a glare that he simply ignored. Lucius began circling Arabella, reminiscent of a vulture circling a new kill. Arabella, aside from her disheveled hair, was clothed in an old pair of jeans that were worn at the knees and sporting some questionable stains, and a gray t-shirt with a baggy green plaid button-up overshirt that had three buttons missing. She had on a pair of purple converse trainers that looked like they had been dropped in some mud. As she was circled, she looked down at herself.

"Sorry, I was helping clean up after lunch," she supplied.

"Clean! You were cleaning?" Lucius asked incredulously.

"Yes, sir," Arabella stood her ground.

"I suppose the Weasley's lack House Elves," Luicus said derisively.

"They don't especially desire them. Many hands make light work, and with all of us working together, the chores take no time at all."

"It was very kind of you to lend a hand to your hostess," Narcissa wrapped an arm around the young lady and began to lead her from the room, shooting another glance at her husband.

"But in very bad taste that the hostess put her guests to work," Lucius continued mockingly.

"Come, let's have some tea," Narcissa continued, as if her husband hadn't spoken. "How about you go wash up and change?"

Arabella looked at Narcissa kindly, nodding her head before taking her leave.

Narcissa rounded on her husband.

"She comes home, well fed, happy—and you go and terrorize her?"

"She spent a week doing chores and dressing like a muggle!" Lucius said incredulously.

"At least Molly was able to get her to eat!"

"Severus was doing about the same."

"This will go a long way towards making her feel like a member of the family instead of a prisoner!" Narcissa hissed, "But you went and ruined it with your scrutiny. You must be gentle with her."

"She needs to learn her place!" Lucius bit back, "And obviously you need a reminder of yours!"

Narcissa crumpled at this comment. Draco wanted to go and put his arm around her as she had done for Arabella.

"Do not disrespect me, Narcissa. And do not question me or correct me in front of the children."

"Yes, Lucius," Narcissa's voice was subdued, her head bowed.

Draco's attention was suddenly drawn to the stairs, where Arabella had reappeared. He cleared his throat so his parents would put on the Malfoy facade for her, as they always did. Narcissa immediately moved to her husband's side, in practiced obedience, but her face betrayed a smile as an elegantly dressed Arabella descended the stairs.

"That's better," Lucius clipped his words under his breath. "Shall we?" he asked aloud as Arabella approached, indicating the dining room for tea.

"So, tell us all about your week," Narcissa said as they settled in around the same round table that had been used for tea with the Dark Lord earlier that summer. Draco observed the two empty seats, indicating they were still waiting for Snape and the Dark Lord. By the long, lingering look Arabella made towards those empty chairs before returning her attention to his mother, Draco was sure she was thinking the same thing.

"I don't think it was terribly exciting," she said, offhandedly, "It was mostly helping Mrs. Weasley with chores, playing games and reading. But it was good to see everyone again. They all seem well."

"Do you have any news for me, little one?" they were suddenly interrupted by the Dark Lord entering, his wand held delicately in his hand. Snape followed, taking his seat beside the Dark Lord, while Lucius sat on the other side.

"No, Father," she said. Neither her voice nor her face betrayed any sign of fear or worry.

"You learned nothing while you were with the Order for the week?"

"I learned Doxy bites really hurt," she said, offhandedly. Draco winced. His mother's eyes bugged out of her head, and Lucius made to go off on the Weasley family again. Arabella saw Narcissa's face and reassured her gently, "Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley had the antidote nearby. I was in good hands."

"So you spent the week being servant to the Order, is what you are telling us?" Lucius interrupted.

"Not servant," Arabella insisted. "Just helping out. Which _may_ have included some extermination of Doxies and some saucer-sized spiders."

A shiver ran up Draco's spine that he resisted.

"Enough cheek, Miss Riddle," Snape gave her a significant look.

"Seriously," she insisted. "We didn't talk about anything important." Her eyes rolled up as though she were thinking back, she ticked off conversations on her fingers as she went, "We talked about what we'd all been doing all summer, which was a whole lot of nothing for everyone, we discussed Fred and George's new joke shop endeavors, Harry and I worked out some Quidditch strategies, Hermione and I talked about books, Ron kicked my butt at Wizard's Chess..."

Draco scoffed. Why was it she'd play Wizard's Chess with Weasel and not with him? He followed Arabella's gaze around the table. There were looks of mistrust and skepticism on the faces of every man at the table. Narcissa simply sipped her tea.

"I'm not lying!" she said. "It's not like the Order is going to tell us much. We're not of age yet, and they think it would be detrimental to protecting Harry from you."

"Severus?" the Dark Lord motioned the man forward. Her father looked angry, but his voice was strangely level.

Snape took a small vial from his coat pocket and let three clear drops of liquid fall into her tea. She looked at the teacup and then back up at Snape.

"You actually think I'm going to drink that after you spiked it?" she said wryly. "You could've at least done it while I wasn't looking."

"You will show respect, Arabella Rose!" her father's voice boomed from across the table. She shrank back only slightly. "Now, drink up. It's only Veritaserum."

"Ooo, goody," she said under her breath.

"DRINK!"

She jumped slightly at the ever increase in volume of her father's voice. And without another impudent remark, she downed her cup.

Draco had never seen someone under the affects of Veritaserum, and while intrigued for the sake of the art of Potion-making, he was a little uneasy at the thought of what could come out of her mouth.

"What is your full name?" the Dark Lord asked to begin.

"Bella."

The Dark Lord hissed, "Your full, birth name!"

She looked at him quite seriously, "Bella."

"Remember, my Lord, it makes the drinker tell the truth as he or she perceives it," Snape reminded gently.

"Where do you go to school?"

"Hogwarts," she said simply.

The Dark Lord peered at his daughter. Draco didn't like the look he was giving her, as if he was thinking of all the questions he could ask that she might have secret answers too.

"Where is the Order of the Phoenix headquarters located?"

"Fidelius Charm trumps Veritaserum, Father. You know that," came her reply. "It's like a bad case of rock-paper-scissors."

Her father sneered at her, half-amused, half-annoyed.

"I already told you, anything of importance they kept from me."

"But you are a confidante to Harry Potter, are you not?"

"I suppose," she shrugged. "Sometimes and in some respects."

"Who does Harry Potter love above all else? Who would he risk everything to rescue?"

Arabella narrowed her eyes at the Dark Lord, a thousand emotions flickering through her eyes.

"Why?"

"Answer me, my child."

"I don't know."

"Guess."

"Even if I had a guess, I wouldn't tell you," she said. And then, as she realized what she said, relief flooded her face as she realized she wasn't forced to answer. Draco looked at her shocked, and he could see his own expression mirrored in his father's face. The Dark Lord looked from his daughter to Snape and back again.

"She's resistent to Veritaserum, Severus," the Dark Lord nearly laughed. "How quaint."

The Dark Lord looked at his daughter.

"Why didn't you mention this before, Arabella? Your resistance to Veritaserum?"

"I honestly didn't know I was," she said, her eyes wide with innocence.

"But Barty Crouch used it on you to question you about your past," the Dark Lord reasoned.

"Who? You mean, fake Mad-Eye Moody?" she confirmed, referring to the Death Eater who had pretended to be Professor Moody all last year. "He did?"

"Yes, when he asked you about your childhood, the orphanage, your family," the Dark Lord reminded.

Realization dawned on her face, "He asked me all those question because..."

The Dark Lord simply nodded, sitting back in his chair, looking self-satisfied, "Yes, little one. He questioned you because he believed you to be my daughter and he wanted confirmation."

"And he told you everything? Didn't he? Everything that happened last year in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

The Dark Lord nodded. "I know you, like Potter, are capable of resisting the Imperius Curse. I know how close you are to Potter. I know you helped him with his tasks, I know about your aversion to Dark Magic and your affinity for Transfiguration and Potions. He was a worthy spy."

Draco gulped. If the Dark Lord knew about all that, he knew about the ferret incident. Draco looked down at his hands, so as to avoid the Dark Lord's gaze at it came his way.

"So why did he not tell me you were immune to Veritaserum?"

Arabella looked at her father as if it were obvious, "Because he wouldn't have known. And neither would I. I was telling the truth. I really didn't know anything about my past. And I was quite honest with him about my childhood at the orphanage."

The Dark Lord scrutinized his daughter for a moment, but he nodded his head when he came to the conclusion she wasn't lying.

"Very well," he turned to Snape, "We will need to come up with other _incentives_ in order to maintain her accurate reports on Potter during the school year."

The threat was open-ended, but no less potent. Arabella shivered slightly as the teapot refilled her cup.

The morning after Arabella's return, their Hogwarts letters came. Arabella's was the usual thin letter, but Draco's was heftier. While Arabella finished her tea, Draco couldn't refrain from ripping his letter open to reveal his Prefect badge.

"Draco!" his mother exclaimed as soon as she saw it, "Prefect! We're so proud!"

Draco beamed as his mother rushed around the breakfast table to give him a hug.

"Well done, Draco," his father said, not even bothering to put his paper down. "To be expected with your high marks."

Even Arabella was laudatory: "Congratulations," she said sweetly before setting her tea cup down.

"And Miss Riddle?" came Lucius' voice from behind his paper, "I expect a similar badge in your letter?"

"Actually no, Mr. Malfoy," she said quite frankly. Draco looked at her to see any sign of disappointment or wounded pride, but if there was even a trace, she didn't betray it.

"Pardon me?" Lucius finally bothered to put his paper down. "You were not named Prefect?"

"Of course not!" she nearly laughed. "That would go to Hermione. She has top marks in our class. Who do you think the girl is in Slytherin?" she turned to Draco without a flinch, though his father was grinding his teeth in anger.

"Probably Pansy," Draco lamented. "And the male in Gryffindor?"

"Harry, if I had to guess," Arabella said. "But then again, I wouldn't be surprised if McGonnagall chose Ron. Harry has enough on his plate."

"Oh?" Lucius said neutrally.

"What, with Father's return and all," she said, her voice a little coarse.

"Really?" Draco asked, honestly surprised. "Weasley?"

Arabella laughed, "If I had to guess. I mean, Neville's marks aren't high enough. And Seamus can be a bit of a clod. But I suppose Dean would be..." she trailed off, and then shook her head with a smile, "Nope, their basically all screw-offs, aren't they?"

Draco smiled, "Yeah, generally."

"It appears I'll be having a word with the School Governors about the Prefect selection this year," Lucius said. "_Really_! A _Mudblood_ being named Prefect."

Arabella very quickly grew red in the face, her fists wrapping into balls.

"Arabella," Draco hissed under his breath so only she could hear, "Watch it..."

"Perhaps McGonnagall believed Arabella needed some time to adjust as well," Narcissa reasoned, putting a comforting hand on her husbands arm as she retook her seat. Draco saw Arabella take visibly deep breaths in order to calm herself. "I would discuss it with Severus first, darling."

"Yes, of course. And the Dark Lord will no doubt have his own input to make," Lucius said, rising.

Draco sent a grateful glance his mother's way, and she smiled kindly back.

"Well," Narcissa said with a gust of air, "we all know what this means! A trip to Diagon Alley!"

Lucius accompanied the rest of the family on their trip to Diagon Alley, just in case there were any run-ins with an Order member. After breakfast, they Floo-ed to the Leaky Cauldron and entered the famous avenue of Wizarding shopping in order to pick up everything they needed for school. Narcissa insisted on buying Arabella all new school robes, since her original ones had been purchased several years ago at the second-hand robe shop with limited funds from the orphanage. Her new ones looked amazing, tailored perfectly this time to her height and measurements, like Draco's always had been. He hadn't realized that for the past several years she'd been wearing hand-me-downs that had been worn by other students of all different sizes, even though he _had_ realized that the Weasleys wore such robes. After her Hogwarts robes had been obtained, Narcissa also had her try on dress robes. Apparently they were having esteemed guests for dinner later in the week, and they were all to look their best. Of course, the identity of the guests was yet to be revealed, but Draco's mother always reveled in surprises.

They stopped at Flourish and Blott's as well as the Quidditch shop. Draco and Arabella both received new brooms, since they'd both been re-named to their respective Quidditch teams. Arabella protested, of course, but Lucius insisted.

"I want my children to do their very best, both in the classroom and on the pitch," he reasoned, making a show of it as he handed a bag of gold the cashier. "And the best way to start is with the proper tools."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Malfoy," Arabella, blushed.

"I hear you are quite the Chaser, even giving Flint a run for his money," Lucius said, handing the broom to her. "Draco was quite impressed by your performance during Third Year."

If it was possible, Arabella blushed further, and strangely this made Draco happy. She should be praised for her Quidditch abilities. It's not every girl who can knock a 250 pound 7th year off his broom to catch a Quaffle.

"I am looking forward to seeing your matches this year," Lucius said, "I plan to make it to every one to cheer you on to victory. Although, it might be a conflict of interest when Slytherin plays Gryffindor," he teased, but it was all for show. The cashier handed his change back, laughing and commenting on how beautiful and charming his children were. Lucius and Narcissa took the compliment with grace, not even bothering to correct the assumption that Arabella was their own. Draco wasn't surprised; she did look like them. Blond, petite, and, thanks to Narcissa, well dressed and groomed, just as a Malfoy ought to be. Draco was starting to feel like Arabella really was a member of the family, and he wondered as he watched her walk along with them back to the Leaky Cauldron if she felt the same.

When they got home, the House Elves put everything away, but Arabella insisted on taking care of her brand new Firebolt. He joined her in the Parlor to oil the wood and check the tail for split bristles, but of course it was in mint condition and there was nothing to do but to admire it.

"Can we go flying tomorrow?" she asked excitedly. Draco hadn't seen her so aglow since the Yule Ball.

Lucius smirked, "Of course. We'll go to the spot where Draco learned to fly and you two can practice a little. Start prepping for the season."

Draco looked at his father. He knew that smirk. That was the victory smirk Lucius wore when he thought he'd won. His father thought he'd bought Arabella with a broom. Draco returned to his broom, shaking his head. How little his father knew Arabella, if he thought her true affection and loyalty could be bought. Still, her improved attitude was a start.

The morning before the important dinner was to take place, Malfoy Manor was cleared out of all Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord. Draco had no idea where the small army would be going, but he knew this dinner had to be vitally important if it was to cause the Dark Lord to leave. The House Elves spent the entire day cleaning and cooking. Narcissa flitted about nervously, correcting improperly polished silver and slightly wrinkled napkins. Draco and Arabella tried to avoid the preparation mayhem until Narcissa finally sent them to their rooms after tea to shower and dress. Everyone reconvened in the Parlor to await the arrival of their guests. Draco was, strangely, the last to arrive. Arabella was already sitting on the window seat, peering out onto the rainy grounds, her legs crossed beneath her and her hands folded neatly in her lap. Her dress robes were a rose colored, simple, but elegant. The color brought out the natural rosiness of her cheeks as well as the beauty of her dark eyes. Her hair was a cascade of curls running down her back from a pony tail at the crown of her head that had been decorated with small roses. She looked up when he entered, but when she realized it was just Draco, she visibly relaxed and turned back to staring out the window at the rain. He looked at his father, standing near the mantle of the fireplace with a drink, and his mother, seated stiffly on the love seat, waiting to leap to her feet to greet the guests when they arrived. He went to stand beside Arabella.

"You look beautiful, Arabella," he said quietly.

She looked up at him, her long lashes and shiny pink lips the only features adorned with makeup, "You don't look so shabby yourself."

She sat and he stood in silence as they waited. It was a silence that was made nearly uncomfortable by the knowledge they were all awaiting guests, and the anxious feeling Draco felt in the pit of his stomach at not knowing who those guests were. He imagined Arabella felt just as nauseous, though she betrayed nothing. His lip curled slightly with pleasure. She wouldn't call it a compliment, but she would make a very good Pureblood wife one day if she wanted to. But that was the thing, his smile faded, she wouldn't want to. And so she'd always misbehave in her stubborn refusal to obey. Draco squashed the thoughts and images that were circling around in his head like a merry-go-round: his conversation with this mother, the polar opposite one with his father, and his usual fantasy-daydreams of his life with Arabella. Now was _really_ not the time, he reminded himself.

"There are two figures rounding the corner toward the front gate," Arabella interrupted the silence from her perch. Sure enough, moments later there was a request at the gate for entrance, which Lucius granted after receiving confirmation of the identities of the guests.

"Remember, Miss Riddle," Lucius began, unrelenting.

"You don't need to remind me, sir. Father made himself quite clear," Arabella replied, looking Lucius square on.

Draco didn't bother to ask. He assumed the Dark Lord had made some kind of threat when he'd called his daughter into the ballroom this morning before he'd left. Draco was curious, but not curious enough to ask just as the guests were arriving. Instead, he offered Arabella a hand so she could stand from the window seat. Her eyes flickered from his hand to his face and back again, obviously uncomfortable with the physical touch. She caught one look from Lucius, though, and placed her hand in his, letting him help her up. He placed her hand in the crook of her arm as they followed his parents toward the front door.

"Your hands are freezing," he whispered, covering the one in the crook of his arm with his other hand, trying to warm it.

"I'm nervous," she admitted.

"If it makes you feel better," he said as they stopped to wait at the front door, "So am I."

He looked down at her to see a grateful expression of relief peering back. He patted her hand once more before letting her go.

There came a knock on the door and Draco's attention was drawn from the beautiful witch beside him to the front door. Two figures stood on the front stoop as the large wooden door swung open of its own accord.

One was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself. Dressed in green dress robes, he removed his favorite bowler hat as he entered. The lady beside him was short and stout, her short, curly hair held back in a disgustingly bright magenta bow. Her dress robes were an equally grotesque color with a hideous fuzzy texture.

"Good evening, Minister!" Lucius greeted the guests.

"Good to see you again, Lucius," the Minister shook his hand, then bowed to Narcissa, greeting her as well.

"Please, come in, come in," Narcissa stood back to let the guests step up and into the entrance hall.

"This is Dolores Umbridge, Senior Under-Secretary to the Minister of Magic. She will likely be Hogwarts' next Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts," the Minister introduced the magenta-clad witch to Narcissa, as a house elf took his hat and their coats.

The lady coughed in a high-pitched manner, as if trying to clear her throat. And then, in an equally high-pitched and overtly saccharine tone, she stuck out a stump of a hand, "A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Malfoy."

"Please, it's Narcissa," his mother insisted politely, attempting to shake the woman's limp hand.

"And these are our children, Draco and Arabella," Lucius introduced them.

Draco came forward to shake her hand and then the Minister's. Dolores Umbridge's hand was clammy and awkward to shake. The Minister's handshake was firm and commanding in comparison.

"Good to see you again, Draco," he said, and then turning to Arabella, "I don't believe we've met."

"A pleasure," Arabella curtsied as she shook his hand. Draco was surprised, but pleased, at her sudden use of her manners. Based on his father's unassuming posture, he wasn't surprised. Her meeting with her father had _definitely_ produced a threat or bribe she couldn't ignore. That, or she had her own agenda tonight. Draco inwardly shrugged. He'd worry about it later, or never, if he got lucky.

"_Hem. Hem_."

Arabella quickly stepped forward to greet Dolores Umbridge as well, who gave her a compliment on the color of her dress robes, wich Arabella gracefully accepted.

As soon as the adults turned to enter the dining room, Arabella turned away from them to face Draco, her facial expression incredulous. They exchanged pointed looks before Draco indicated they should follow the adults. Draco felt his heart skip a beat as Arabella nearly dissolved into giggles in the middle of the entrance hall.

"She looks like—" Arabella began, her voice so low only Draco could hear since the adults were making small talk.

"A cross between a toad—"

"—and one of those hideous muggle dolls!" Arabella nodded in agreement, covering her mouth to stifle the giggle.

"And that cough!" he continued on. "_Hem. Hem._"

"And her voice. Like cough syrup, it's so sickly sweet!"

"Hold it together," he whispered smiling as he put a hand on her lower back to guide her through the door. He was struggling himself to hold back his laughter.

"Only if you do," she said, her eyes sparkling with mutual amusement.

And suddenly, at least for the evening, they were on the same side.

_AN: So, I realize I've written a lot of "table conversations" over the past chapters, so I wanted to give us a break. However, if there are a high number of reviews requesting I write the dinner scene with Umbridge and Fudge, I will. Otherwise I will continue on to 5th year. Thank you for your patience with the changes over the last few chapters and with me easing into trying to write from semi-Draco's POV instead of Arabella's. It's a lot harder for me. PLEASE review! xoxo~CW_


	6. Chapter 6

_AN: Please read the disclaimer. Thank you._

_**DISCLAIMER:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. He and everything related to the Harry Potter canon belong to JK Rowling. I created Arabella Riddle. For the purpose of this chapter, I have borrowed (in some cases verbatim, in some cases altered slightly) from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by JK Rowling. To her, I give the credit for those excerpts used from her book. (US version pp 179-245).

**VI. The Dinner and the Train**

Draco was surprised to find the dining room extremely modified for their guests. The front portion of the room near the windows, located to the right as they entered, had been converted into a miniature parlor with various couches and chairs, a bar where Lucius began mixing drinks, and a tiered coffee table laden with hors d'oeuvres. The back of the dining room held a modified and shortened version of the usual long and dark carved wooden dining table. It was covered in an ecru tablecloth with matching cloth napkins. The Malfoy family china and silver were laid out, not the Black family dining wear that was reserved for Christmas and Easter; but it was formal occasion nonetheless. Draco led Arabella to a seat across from the one that the Minister and Umbridge were occupying before meeting his father at the bar. Narcissa was already discussing fashion with Umbridge, who apparently had a passion for the color pink, fuzzy textures and kittens. Draco had to look quickly away from Arabella, who, in order to hide her facial expression, had leaned down to adjust her shoe. He was promptly handed two drinks to take to the guests, when he returned there was an additional one for his mother.

"What can I offer you to drink?" he whispered to Arabella on his way back to the bar.

"125 proof Bourbon?" she deadpanned, looking at him upside down as he stood behind the couch she was occupying.

Draco wasn't sure what that was, but he was sure it was a Muggle alcoholic drink. He smirked, "How about an Italian soda?"

"Raspberry please?" she said, mimicking a certain sickly sweet voice they knew too well.

Draco nodded, winking before joining his father at the bar.

"Raspberry syrup and club soda for Arabella and the usual for me, please, Father," Draco said.

His father nodded and obliged, eyeing his son carefully.

"She is behaving herself?" Lucius asked under his breath.

Draco nodded, "I'd love to know what convinced her to do so."

Lucius cocked one eyebrow, "As would I, as would I."

Draco took the drinks from his father, as they both returned to the gathering. Draco handed Arabella her drink, which was a shade of pink to match her dress, strangely enough. He sat beside her as Lucius took up the conversation.

"Have things improved at the Ministry since we last talked, Minister?"

"Yes and no," the Minister sighed. "You heard about Potter? Oh yes—of course, we met that morning. Well, there is that, and the state of things at Hogwarts."

"Are things really that bad?" asked Narcissa.

"We are quite concerned about Albus Dumbledore," Fudge commented.

"So the articles in _The Prophet_ are accurate?" Narcissa asked.

"Oh yes," Fudge shook his head, "I'm afraid so."

Draco's attention was drawn back to Arabella as she shifted in her seat, uncrossing and recrossing her legs and taking a sip of her drink. Lucius's eyes darted to her and back to Fudge in an instant. But the conversation continued without either of their guests noticing.

"I mean, _really!_" Umbridge put in, "Lying to the students of Hogwarts, telling them that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned."

Lucius shook his head and Narcissa made a derisive noise. Arabella choked on her drink and began coughing. Draco shifted to face her, placing a hand on her back and patting it gently.

"Pardon me," she coughed. "It went down the wrong pipe."

Everyone looked at her quizzically for the strange expression. She started at their reaction and respoke: "I mean, I—I just swallowed the wrong way."

Her eyes were watering and Draco stood to get her a glass of plain water.

"Minister," Lucius turned the conversation around in a hurry, "you mentioned Dolores may be a professor this year?"

"Ah yes," Fudge answered, "You probably know from being a Hogwarts School Governor, Lucius, but Dumbledore has been unable to find a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for this school year."

"Severus had offered to take the position, I heard last," Lucius commented, much to Draco's surprise.

"Yes, yes," Fudge continued, "but he prefers Severus remain in his position as Potions master. And, of course, everyone talks of the position being cursed, which doesn't help."

"_Hem. Hem."_

All heads turned to Dolores Umbridge in the most awkwardly conversation-stopping way.

"It is perfectly illogical that a position be cursed. It has been Dumbledore's own inability to hire a capable Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher in the first place."

The glass of water in Arabella's hand was now shaking and the ice was rattling against the glass. Draco quietly removed the glass from her hand, placing it on a coaster on the little table in front of them. She sent him a grateful glance, which took him by surprise. She _was_ actually trying to behave herself! And a small part of Draco (that non-ferret part) decided he would do everything in his power to help her succeed.

"It looks like I will be able to create what will be dubbed 'Educational Decree Number Twenty-Two,' which will allow the Ministry of Magic to appoint an appropriate person to a teaching post at Hogwarts should the Headmaster be unable to provide a candidate," the Minister explained, "and I plan to nominate Dolores for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. I don't foresee there being any objections from the Wizengamot."

"Of course not," Lucius agreed, and then turning to Umbridge, "an early congratulations to you."

"Thank you," Umbridge said, her voice sugary and her smile hideous.

"Hogwarts will be grateful to have a Ministry employee so capable," Narcissa flattered.

A small bell chimed, indicating dinner was ready and about to be served. Lucius offered his arm to Umbridge, leading her to a designated seat at his left, across from the Minister. Fudge led Narcissa in a similar fashion to the head of the table opposite her husband. Draco and Arabella sat across from each other, Arabella beside the Minister and Draco beside Umbridge. Arabella gave him a

self-satisfied smirk and raised her eyebrows at his position at the table. He narrowed his eyes at her, feigning anger, but his feeling of happiness at Arabella's behavior out-weighed his discomfort at sitting beside the toad-like witch.

"So Draco, you'll be heading back to what? – your sixth year? Fifth year? – at Hogwarts?" the Minister asked.

"Fifth year, sir," Draco affirmed, placing his napkin carefully in his lap as the first course arrived.

"And Miss Malfoy?" he turned to Arabella.

"It's just Arabella, sir," she insisted. "I'll be in my Fifth year as well."

"Twins?" Umbridge asked. "And I assume you are both in the noble house of Slytherin?"

Narcissa laughed nervously, but Lucius took the reigns.

"Actually, we are only Arabella's legal guardians," Lucius supplied. "She has only just recently joined the family after being lost in the Muggle orphanage system after the tragic death of her parents."

Draco watched as Arabella bowed her head, looking down into her napkin. He couldn't tell if she was playing the part, or hiding an un-trustworthy emotion; either way, it worked.

"How heart-breaking!" Umbridge sighed, her voice too high and too sweet. It made Draco a little sick. "Well, thank goodness you found each other again!"

"Yes, it's as if she's always been one of the family," Narcissa reached out a hand to Arabella, who looked up at her with a cheesy expression that Draco knew Arabella was milking for her own entertainment. "Her mother, Ann Marie Roberts, and I were very close, pregnant at about the same time, so Lucius and I were overjoyed to take on the role of guardians when we discovered Arabella's true heritage."

"So I was in error when I called you Miss Malfoy," Fudge said, "I apologize."

"No, Minister, it's quite alright," Arabella insisted before Lucius could speak for her. "I haven't actually decided what I'll be going by this term. I've never had a last name, and I'm trying to decide which surname to take. And," she continued, turning to Umbridge, "to answer your previous question, I was actually sorted into Gryffindor House."

The Minister looked surprised, Umbridge slightly appalled.

"So, _hem. _You are familiar with Harry Potter, then?"

Arabella's eyes flitted instantly to Lucius, who was looking at her interestedly as he sipped some wine from his glass.

"I am, yes," she said. "He is my classmate and Quidditch teammate. And we were retrieved at about the same time from our respective places of living prior to Hogwarts to enter the Wizarding World."

"Arabella is loathe to talk irreverently about _anyone_," Draco said when he saw the unsatisfied looks on Umbridge's and his father's faces.

"Yes, Draco would come home every holiday and tell us how sweet Arabella was," Narcissa cut in. She had caught on to Draco's plight to help Arabella, but Draco feared it would be at the cost of his own pride. He could already feel his cheeks heat up. And Lucius had caught on as well: he was shifting uncomfortably as he sent a look of disdain at his son. "She would always attempt to keep the Slytherins and Gryffindors from fighting, without actually taking sides."

"An admirable quality," the Minister said vaguely.

"Yes, how _quaint_," Umbridge agreed, barely.

"Thank you," Arabella nodded to the two adults before sighing heavily and looking straight at Draco, bringing her soup spoon to her mouth while holding his gaze unwaveringly. Her strength in that moment was uncanny; Draco himself could barely keep a smile at her ridiculous acting (that apparently only he thought was atrocious) at bay.

For a moment, all that could be heard was the clink of silver against china as each person at the table took a sip of soup. The silence was tense.

"Oh look! Roast beef!" Narcissa exclaimed when the main course suddenly appeared.

Draco nearly laughed with relief. Just for a moment, Arabella's smile reached her eyes, and he was captivated.

Lucius took care in slicing the main course; all of the sides were passed around until everyone's plate was laden with food. Narcissa graciously received compliments on the spread, and the conversation turned to business. Draco tried to listen as his father discussed various business endeavors with the Minister, knowing one day the entire Malfoy empire would be his to govern. Every once in a while, Draco would glance at his mother, who remained very attentive to the conversation, but without interrupting. He didn't know how she maintained the facade of caring, when he'd bet five galleons she'd rather be discussing the weather in Zimbabwe than business. As these thoughts ran through Draco's head, the importance of paying attention seemed to leave his consciousness and it became less and less desirable to give an owl's hoot what they were talking about. He watched as Arabella very carefully broke and buttered her dinner roll, her movements slow and deliberate. She made sure when she replaced her silverware, that there was no sound against the china. When she took a bite of food, she would put down her utensil, place her hands in her lap and chew silently, watching the Minister and Lucius talk back and forth. Draco began to copy her movements as a way to pass the time, only taking a forkful of food to his mouth after she had done so. He found it very difficult to refrain from stuffing his face as usual. Arabella had a level of self-control he didn't quite understand, since on occasions like this she would behave and even suffer without comment, but in others she would mouth-off without thought to the repercussions. It didn't take long for Arabella to notice Draco's mimic, and even less time for her to notice the difficulty he was having in keeping his slow movements under control. She smirked, but only in her eyes, and slowed her motions down even further, even pausing to take sips of water or pretend to be listening to the conversation at hand. Draco caught her eyes as she looked back at him before eating some of her dinner roll. When he was sure no one was looking he mouthed two words to her, which he knew she'd understand: _Game on._ She nodded nearly imperceptibly before lifting her water glass slowly to her lips. The two continued on this way, each slowing their movements down to a snail's pace, trying to out-do the other until Lucius caught sight of them. Draco received the most heated glance from his father of the night, and was forced to return to normalcy in his actions. It was only at this point that Arabella smiled, and then used her napkin to hide her smile under the guise of cleaning her face of crumbs. She lifted a hand, but just before taking her fork held up two fingers. He knew what that meant. _2-0 Arabella_. She was winning.

Halfway through dessert, the conversation returned to Hogwarts.

"I apologize, the Minister and I must be boring you all with our business talk," Lucius began. "So, Dolores, what are your plans for Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

Umbridge wiggled in her seat a little, sitting up straighter with a self-importance that gave no extra height to her vertically challenged figure. "Well," she began, "students will be required to read Ministry approved Defense Against the Dark Arts texts in order to understand the principles underlying defensive magic, recognize when it is legal to use defensive magic and place the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use."

Narcissa and Lucius shared a long glance.

"It is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to prepare the students for their O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. Examinations."

"We won't be practicing the spells?" Arabella burst out suddenly.

"There will be no need to practice the defensive spells," Umbridge turned to the young girl, her voice falsely sweet. "I can't imagine any situation arising in the classroom that would require you to _use_ a defensive spell."

"But shouldn't we practice to be prepared for the possibility of such an attack in real life?"

"Why would anyone want to attack such a beautiful child as yourself?" her voice was horribly honeyed.

Lucius was staring daggers at Arabella, but she was intent on continuing the conversation at hand.

"Dementors attacked Harry this summer. It was a good thing Professor Lupin taught him the Patronus during our Third Year, or he would have lost his soul!" her tone was intensely passionate, but had not raised in volume.

Umbridge's fake smile turned into a grimace.

"Arabella," Lucius growled.

"No, Lucius," the Minister said with a forced smile, "Arabella is correct about Potter. And I'm sure Dolores would be more than happy to explain the Ministry's position on the subject of the practical use of defensive spells. Won't you, Dolores?"

"Of course," she smiled at the Minister with ridiculous insincerity.

"Won't part of our O.W.L. require us to perform the spells?" Draco cut in, trying to back up Arabella just a tad and ignoring the painful glance his father was now sending him.

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," she finished.

"Sounds perfectly practical to me," Lucius cut in.

"And much more secure than what has occurred in class the last couple years," Narcissa put in. "Obviously, our children are in good hands."

"Oh, yes they are," the Minister put in, and Umbridge feigned a blush. Lucius was till fuming at one end of the table, but he was outdone by the anger flashing in Arabella's eyes. He could see her clenched jaw and her teeth grinding, she was trying to hard not to burst out.

"I'm sure that Arabella is just concerned about obtaining Outstandings on all of her O.W.L.s," Draco commented to Umbridge.

"Yes," Narcissa helped to steer the conversation to a topic that would soften the mood, "Draco and Arabella compete for some of the top marks in their class."

"So I assume you are both Prefects?" Umbridge asked.

"Draco is," Arabella put in. "I'm not."

"Oh?" the Minister looked from Arabella to Lucius.

"Hermione Granger is the Gryffindor Prefect from our class," Arabella said.

"Granger...Granger," the Minister said, "I don't think I recognize the last name."

"You wouldn't, Minister," Lucius said with a cruel glint in his eye, "she's a Muggle."

The Minister nodded, "Ah, I see."

"A Muggle-born chosen as Prefect?" Umbridge asked, to Lucius' obvious delight.

"Yes," Lucius continued, shaking his head with dismay, "when Arabella would have been the obvious choice: top marks, well-known pure magical blood, natural leadership..."

"Hermione receives the top marks in our class!" Arabella insisted, but her comment went ignored.

"Tsk tsk," Umbridge fell right into Lucius' ploy, "well things _are_ going downhill at Hogwarts. Perhaps worse than we feared. Not to worry, Lucius. I'll be sure to amend this as quickly as possible, or else institute a more reputable leadership group of students."

Arabella was so slack-jawed by this point, Draco feared she'd dislocated her jaw completely.

"There's nothing—" she began angrily, the next word, "wrong" nearly out of her mouth.

"—better than red-velvet cake, I couldn't agree more, Arabella," Draco interrupted her, sending her a sharp look and a swift kick from underneath the table. She glared back at him, but faked a smile and took a big bite of her dessert to appease the on-lookers. "It's her favorite," Draco said. "And we'd be delighted to assist you in any endeavors you undertake at Hogwarts this year, Professor."

Umbridge gave him a toady smile, and beyond her, Draco caught a nod of approval from his hard-to-please father, "I would expect nothing less from you two," Umbridge's voice was sweeter than the frosting on the cake, "coming from such reputable and distinguished families as yourselves."

There was polite laughter and the acceptance of compliments, but by the time the Minister and his Undersecretary left for the evening, it was obvious to Draco that the Ministry would be interfering fully at Hogwarts this year. When the front door finally closed behind the echoing "thank you"s and "good night"s, it was obvious the only one _not _exhausted from the evening was Lucius. After excusing Arabella and Draco to retire for the night, he went to his study for a nightcap and Narcissa re-entered the dining room to oversee the clean-up. Draco walked with Arabella as she physically dragged herself up the stairway, grinding her teeth angrily the entire way. He escorted her to her quarters and then continued on to his. Halfway down the hall between the two rooms, her door re-opened and her delicate blond head poked out.

"Hey, Draco?" she called. He turned around to face her. "Thanks."

He looked at her blandly.

"I mean, thank you for helping me behave tonight—for having my back and whatnot."

Draco smiled, not a smirk or a lopsided grin, but a genuine (albeit, close-lipped) smile.

"Your welcome."

Just as she was about to close the door, he called.

"You owe me."

And then he smirked, turned on his heel and walked away, hearing a short _humph_ and the door to her room close with a sharp snap.

Narcissa woke Draco and Arabella earlier than Draco thought was strictly necessary on September 1st. And she did it herself, instead of just sending a house elf. Her already-awake and too-cheerful voice was met with Draco's grunts and groans, not willing to leave his warm, dark fortress of a bed. However, with the bribe of banana chocolate chip pancakes waiting downstairs, the smell of black coffee wafting from where she'd placed a cup on his night stand, and the overall excitement he felt for going back to Hogwarts, he was rendered utterly unable to resist facing the morning.

Arabella nearly gave Narcissa a run for her Galleons on the level of jollity and alertness, which even after Draco's first cup of coffee, he couldn't quite sustain. Draco did enjoy hearing from his father about how she had apparently come down in her usual jeans and t-shirt, only to be sent back upstairs to change into something more presentable. She'd argued that she didn't want to make her friends feel out-of-place with her new garments, but was firmly reminded that they _were_ out-of-place compared to her Pureblood blood-line. So, she'd reappeared, only moments after Draco'd arrived at the breakfast table, wearing some business-casual robes consisting of a nice A-line wool herringbone skirt and brown blouse. Her hair was pulled into a complicated twist that only Narcissa could have created. She looked four years older and very much like she could have been a Malfoy all along.

After devouring several pancakes each, Draco and Arabella went upstairs to finish preparing and to double-check their belongings were all accounted for. At 9:45am, Arabella was called to an audience with her father for the last time until the Christmas holidays. The luxurious black Ministry of Magic cars arrived at 10 o'clock on the dot to pick them up and take them to King's Cross Station. Their trunks, brooms and Draco's owl were loaded into the extended trunk, and the family took their seats in the back of the middle car. The guard that was arranged for Arabella's safety—and to ensure no funny business on her part—took seats in the cars before and after theirs.

"First time in a Ministry car?" Draco asked, wanting to brag a little.

"Oh no," Arabella said casually, much to his surprise. "We traveled in cars last year: Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys and I."

Draco looked at her aghast for a moment, but recovered quickly. Lucky for her, Lucius hadn't heard.

"They are very nice vehicles," Arabella said offhandedly, her lip twitching as she suppressed a smile.

All Draco could do was nod and turn to look out the window as they pulled away from the Manor.

When they arrived at the station, Avery opened the door for the family to step out. The guard fell in formation around Arabella, with Macnair leading out front. Draco walked beside his father, Arabella behind them with Narcissa. Draco shot a glance over his shoulder at her, just in time to see her roll her eyes. But as they began walking onto the platform, her eyes widened.

"Something wrong, dear?" Draco heard Narcissa ask.

"Where are we?" Arabella asked. "I've not seen this part of King's Cross."

"_This_," Lucius interrupted curtly, "is the _Wizarding_ side of London, and thus, the _Wizarding _side of King's Cross. There will be no running through Muggle barriers. We walk onto Platform 9 ¾ with dignity."

Draco smirked, walking just a tad bit taller. Knowing this was the first time Arabella was entering on the Wizarding side made him want to lead with confidence. They climbed the staircase to the platform from where the cars had dropped them off with the trunks levitating behind them. Once on the platform, the small guard was tripled when they met up with the Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Nott families on the Platform. While the fathers shook hands as if they hadn't_ just_ seen each other at the Manor, the wives, who really hadn't seen each other in quite some time embraced coldly and began gossiping. Soon they were joined by Mrs. Zabini, and Blaise came to greet his classmates.

"Really? _Really?_" Arabella turned to Draco, obviously uncomfortable with not just the overt protective guard, but also the Pureblood culture of wives pretending to be best friends gossiping about fashion, when really they were sizing each other up.

"Theodore, Blaise, why don't you go find a compartment?" Draco said to them.

The two boys nodded and left swiftly, dragging their own trunks along to reserve their spot.

"Since when do they take orders from you?" Arabella asked snidely.

Draco met her gaze unwaveringly, "Who says they ever didn't?"

She looked at him pointedly. He returned her gaze with full force.

"I know Crabbe and Goyle are your thugs, but really? Nott and Zabini too?"

Draco sighed, "Let's just say, being betrothed to the Dark Lord's daughter gives you some authority..."

"We're not betrothed," she crossed her arms and turned away.

Draco stepped forward to whisper in her ear, "We are. Whether you like it or not."

He stepped away from her now-tense body as someone cleared his throat.

"We have a compartment to ourselves," Blaise said.

"Let's get you all settled in, then," Narcissa said, placing an arm around Arabella. She gave her son a questioning glance when she saw Arabella's expression. Draco waved it off with a shake of his head, so Narcissa levitated their trunks into their compartment on the train. They reconvened on the platform to say their goodbyes, and when they did, Draco noticed that Arabella had refused to part with her book bag, which was still slung over her shoulder.

"Let me take that for you," he said grabbing the strap and trying to lift it over her head.

"No!" she protested, too quickly, but recovering: "I want to keep this on my person."

Draco raised his eyebrows at her, poised with a retort, but his father stepped forward for goodbyes. Draco saw Narcissa turn to give Arabella a hug and a reassuring word as his father took his shoulder.

"Remember your task, Draco," he said firmly.

"Yes, sir."

"Make us proud."

He caught sight of the other children embracing their parents as his mother came to hug and kiss him.

"Miss Riddle," his attention was drawn away from his mother's kind words and to his father who was saying goodbye to his new ward.

"Thank you so much for your hospitality," she responded, and then looking to Narcissa more softly, "Thanks to both of you."

Narcissa waved the comment away, "You are like one of our own, dear. It was our pleasure to have you for the summer, and we look forward to seeing you for Christmas."

"And, as one of our own, we have high expectations for your performance at Hogwarts," came Lucius' threat.

"Yes, sir," she said, her voice and body tense and angry. But Draco could see something had drawn her attention away from the conversation.

"Remember who you are," he said curtly.

Arabella, with all the courage of a Gryffindor, looked fiercely into the face of Lucius Malfoy and responded, "How could I forget?"

He eyed her suspiciously, but Narcissa stepped in, "We love you both. Have a wonderful year," and she ushered them forward towards the train. They said their last goodbyes, and Draco placed a hand on Arabella's lower back to guide her onto the train. Draco watched his step as they stepped from the platform onto the train, but as he watched her brown leather shoes beside his own black ones, he noticed they veered away to the left just before the step onto the locomotive, and Arabella broke away. In a split second, he moved to grab her arm, which fell quickly through his grasp, she carefully evaded every member of the guard present and made a sprint for the other end of the platform, where a familiar red-headed family was located with several others, including the Boy Who Lived.

"Arabella!" Draco called after her, drawing attention to her flight. But she was long gone. She had already sprinted the length of the platform and launched herself into a group hug with the other members of the Golden Quartet. His father sneered, and sent Draco a very disdainful look. With a motion of his walking stick, the guard moved down the platform after her.

"Draco!" he called back, indicating he should follow to clean up his mess. Draco scurried to his father's side, not looking forward to the punishment and disappointment that would come from making an error so soon in his command.

As they approached, Draco saw Arabella kneel down to scratch the head of a big bear-like black dog. She was saying something inaudible to it, and Draco looked up to see his father narrow his eyes.

"That dog, Draco," his father muttered as they approached. "Is an Animagus. And if I had to guess, it is Potter's godfather, Sirius Black."

Draco nodded his understanding, triumphant with the inside information.

"Quick, quick," Draco could hear Mrs. Weasley, distractedly hugging her children, as well as Potter, Granger and Arabella at random, "Write...Be good..."

Just then, for a moment, the great black dog reared onto its hind legs, placing its front paws on Harry's shoulders, but Mrs. Weasley was shoving Potter through the hissing doors to the train, hissing something at the dog. Arabella's left arm was attached to Potter as he dragged her onto the train with him. Just before the doors shut, Draco hopped on, one compartment down. As he peered out the window, Lucius and Arabella's guard had just reached the Weasleys and Potter's guard in some sort of face-off. The train began pulling away, and Draco's attention was brought back to finding Arabella.

"Mate, where'd you go?" Blaise was suddenly beside him.

"Come on," Draco grunted, irritated beyond belief. This was _not_ how the trip back to Hogwarts was supposed to progress.

When they found the Golden Quartet, Weasel and Granger were dragging their trunks and pets away from Potter and Arabella, who stood awkwardly with Weaselette watching their friends leave..

"Come on," Weaselette said to them, "if we get a move on we'll be able to save them places."

"Right," said Potter, and Arabella grabbed the caged owl for him as he hefted his trunk to drag it down to another compartment.

"Arabella!" Draco called, his voice betraying his irritation.

She didn't even bother to turn around, though Potter and the Weaselette did.

"I don't have time for this," he growled to Blaise. He needed to be heading to the Prefect cabin. He took two long strides and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him.

"Just _what_ do you think you are doing?" he hissed at her.

"Let her go!" the Weaselette moved to intervene, but Potter had her beat. He was already pointing a wand at Draco's heart. His spare arm placing himself between the two blonds, trying to wrest Draco's grasp from her arm.

"Arabella, you need to go sit in the compartment with Blaise."

"Aren't you late for the Prefect meeting?" she said, her voice too sweet.

"Yes, and I don't have time for your antics."

For just a moment, she paused, meeting his eyes. There was an unfamiliar glint in her eye, and Draco couldn't tell if she was rearing to fight or just upset.

"You know full well the consequences of your actions, Arabella. Don't misstep so soon in the year."

She sighed heavily, as if deflating like a balloon at these words. "Alright then, I'll go with Blaise," she conceded, bowing her head. "Go to your meeting."

Draco looked at her, completely befuddled for a moment. Had he heard her clearly? Was she giving up so easily? Perhaps she was finally learning to behave!

"Bella!" came the surprised and betrayed responses from her friends, Draco sneered at them in triumph.

He cleared his throat, straightened up, "Brilliant. I will see you there after the meeting," he let her go, "Blaise?"

"Uh, mate..." Blaise didn't sound terribly confident.

"Not now," Draco cut him off. "Just take her to the compartment."

"Got it," he mumbled, taking Draco's place beside Arabella. With one last, very pointed, glance at the young lady, Draco strode toward the Prefect meeting.

He was happy to find he wasn't the last to arrive at the meeting. But he arrived nearly as they began, so he had only a moment to look around and take in who had made the cut to be named a Prefect. Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff, Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil from Ravenclaw, and Granger and Weasley from Gryffindor. Pansy had reserved a seat for him, which he took reluctantly, ignoring her question as to where he'd disappeared to. When the Head Girl finally slipped in and took her seat next to the Head Boy, he cleared his throat and stood to quiet everyone down.

"Welcome back to a new year at Hogwarts," the Head Boy addressed them. He was tall and lanky, with curly brown hair and dark eyes. "I'm Jonathan Stokes, your Head Boy from Ravenclaw."

"And I'm Jayme Silks, your Head Girl from Hufflepuff," she stood, her thin brown hair lying limp down to her shoulders.

The Head Boy began with a pretentious speech: "We encourage you all to get to know each other, since we'll all be working together to patrol the train and the halls. It is incredibly important that we all get along and work as a team. You have been chosen by your Head of House for your leadership qualities, and we expect you to conduct yourselves in an appropriate manner."

Draco sent a heated gaze at the Gryffindors sitting on the opposite side of the compartment from him. Granger was taking notes, but Weasley met his gaze with equal hatred.

"Now, let's go over our duties and get your patrolling assignments. And don't forget the privilege of the Prefect bathroom!" the Head Girl said a little too perkily. Draco inwardly groaned, rolling his eyes at the sight of Granger sitting up just a little straighter. McGonnagall _would_ give the Prefect badge to the Mudblood. Why couldn't it have been Arabella?

Once responsibilities, assignments, and (finally!) privileges had been elucidated, the Prefects were dismissed to mingle with their friends while Stokes and Silks (_Sounds like a bad name for a robe shop,_ thought Draco) did the first rounds.

Pansy unfortunately followed him back to the compartment where Blaise and Arabella were waiting. She was obviously deluding herself into thinking they could still be together in some respect. She'd already told everyone who would listen they _she_ had broken it off, needing time to _grow._ She prattled the whole way about how blasphemous it was to have a Mudblood be a Prefect, as if that hadn't already been established. When they arrived, the boys were engrossed in a rather rowdy game of Exploding Snap. There was a shout and a burst of laughter as Goyle burned his finger on an exploding card.

"Where is Arabella?" Draco asked, looking around the compartment, where the boys had left random belongings on the seat cushions to sit on the floor. The boys exchanged pointed looks. "Blaise..." Draco lowered his voice. The boy stood, still dressed in his non-Hogwarts robes.

"You didn't _actually_ think she'd go with me, did you mate?"

Draco could feel the blood drain from his face as he realized what Blaise was saying.

"I mean, you left me alone with Gryffindors. Three to one. She only agreed to go with me to—"

"—get rid of me," Draco finished the sentence, running a hand through his hair. No wonder she had been so easily persuaded! And her voice—too sweet—had obviously been sarcastic and mocking, now that he saw it with 20/20 hindsight. He rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh, plopping down on one of the seats.

"We saved you some Cauldron Cakes," Blaise offered, with a phony smile.

"You know," Theodore snickered, "as a consolation prize." He received a slap to the gut from Blaise.

"_Or..._" Blaise offered, glaring at Theodore, "an apology." Draco waved him off.

"Oh, let her go off with her stupid friends," Pansy cut in, quite uninvited. "It's not like she won't when we get back to Hogwarts."

"Oh, shut up, Pansy," every single male in the compartment said in unison. With a betrayed look, she crossed her arms with a humph and left the compartment.

Draco lied down on the train seat, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. He needed to go retrieve Arabella, but he wasn't going to delude himself into thinking he would succeed. Draco decided (after he'd had a few Cauldron Cakes) that, together with Crabbe and Goyle, he'd at least go pay a visit to the Golden Quartet.

So, twenty minutes later, he found himself in about the same position he'd been in at the end of term in June: peering into the compartment that contained Arabella and her friends. This time there was an additional person: Loony Luna Lovegood of Ravenclaw, reading _The Quibbler_ upside down. Without waiting, Draco slid the compartment door open and stepped in, Crabbe and Goyle each standing to one side of him. He smirked smugly, trying not to reveal anything had gone wrong with the boarding of the train.

"What?" Potter asked aggressively, before Draco could open his mouth.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll have to give you a detention," he drawled. "You see, I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Yeah," said Potter, "but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

The Weasleys, Granger, and Longbottom laughed. Draco's lip curled. He glanced toward Arabella, who was sitting beside Potter. She'd chucked her shoes unceremoniously across the compartment, and had tucked her bare feet up under herself. She was playing with a silver necklace that adorned her neck, which she hadn't been wearing earlier that day. Beside her was a wad of tissue paper and a little jewelry box, which he assumed had held said necklace. He looked from her neck to the box and back again. She stared him down in response, daring him to ask.

"Arabella..."

"Don't start. You know you aren't going to win this one," she shook her head at him.

He almost smiled, but refrained for the sake of her friends.

"3-0, then?" he sighed, indicating the score now, if he included the round she'd won at the Lake House as well as the round at the dinner table.

She nodded, smirking slightly.

"Why didn't you leave your hair up?" he asked, commenting on how she'd pulled her hair out of its complicated twist to let it flow down her back in a more relaxed manner.

"It made me look too austere," she said, smoothing it back. "This isn't a Jane Austin novel."

He looked at her confused. Based on Granger's giggle, it was a Muggle reference; and since Potter didn't react, it was a reference of higher learning. He looked at Potter, and then pointedly to the absent Prefect badge.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?" he asked.

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Granger sharply.

"I seem to have touched a nerve," he continued, smirking. "Well, just watch yourself Potter, because I'll be _dogging_ your footsteps in case you step out of line."

"Get out!" Arabella and Granger stood simultaneously.

Sniggering, Draco gave Harry one last malicious look, and departed.

"Behave, Arabella," he warned as Granger slammed the compartment door behind Crabbe and Goyle, who were lumbering in his wake.

_AN: If you don't remember what was the jewelry box, you'll either have to wait for it to be revealed in the next couple of chapters or go back to Bella's story (Ch 16). Please review!_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer:**_ I own not the awesomeness that is the Harry Potter world/franchise/canon. That's JK Rowling. Also some of this chapter is taken **directly** from _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_. Those words are JK Rowling's and I'm using them to help make my story fit in the canon better, but I'm not claiming they are mine. I'm just another being who loves to write, and this is what I got:

**VII. Back to School**

The morning after the Welcoming Feast and Umbridge's ridiculous speech to the school, not to mention the stupid Sorting Hat's new song, Draco found himself sitting across from Pansy Parkinson as Snape handed out their schedules.

Just as Pansy began opening her mouth to spout something about Millicent Bulstrode's snoring, the Golden Quartet entered, following some Ravenclaws into the Great Hall. They stopped and glanced at the staff table, and then both Potter and Arabella looked up at the sky. She nudged him and said something that made him smile. Draco's stomach did a jealous flip. As they took their seats, Draco looked to the staff table, and then realized who they were missing: that great oaf Hagrid.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape drew his attention away, handing him his schedule. "See you later this morning," he clipped his words, eyeing him pointedly.

"What was that about?" Blaise asked, but Draco waved him off, turning back to spy on the Gryffindors. Unfortunately Angelina Johnson was blocking his view, discussing what Draco assumed was Quidditch with Potter and Arabella. And then, as if to spite him, as soon as she moved away, the owls arrived. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining outside. Draco received an owl with two letters, one each from his mother and father. But he didn't bother to open them. He had a good idea of what they both said. Just as Arabella leaned over the breakfast table to look at something Granger had received, Professor McGonnagall returned to her side, though she had already completed the task of handing out schedules. She handed Arabella a small piece of paper and then tipped her hat before leaving the Great Hall. Arabella opened the slip of paper, which could hardly hold any words at all, based on its size. Potter leaned in, till their heads were almost touching. Draco felt that pang of jealousy again, and he was especially angry that he was jealous of _Potter_ of all people. He watched the two friends as they exchanged some words, and then Arabella stood to leave, her breakfast half-finished. He looked up to the staff table to find Snape had disappeared as well, as had the Headmaster. It was about time for classes, so the students were beginning to file out of the Great Hall. Draco fell behind his friends on their way to Herbology, slipping into the men's room down the hall. He had a pretty good idea where everyone of those people had disappeared to, and he was far to curious to go to classa and not find out if his hunch was right. Once he was sure the halls were clear and that classes had begun, he snuck out from the washroom and headed back towards the gargoyle that guarded the staircase to Dumbledore's office. He paced for a few minutes, checking the time every so often. So much time went by, he began to worry that he'd missed class for nothing. But finally, he heard the creaking of the staircase as it began rotating, indicating someone was descending. Rearranging his worried facial expression into a smirk, he leaned against the wall just beside the gargoyle, one foot resting against the wall and his arms crossed.

Sure enough, Arabella came barreling around the corner, nearly colliding with him as he stood there. She stumbled back, jumping with fright, one hand clutching her heart as she realized it was just Draco.

"Merlin, Malfoy," she exclaimed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Did you have a nice meeting with the Headmaster?" Draco asked, his voice cold and accusatory, still leaning against the wall

"Pardon?" she feigned innocence.

They eyed each other for a moment. And when the silence broke, they spoke simultaneously:

"Don't play dumb with me,"

"Shouldn't you be in class?"

Draco had pushed off the wall to face her, pointing a finger at her, while Arabella narrowed her eyes at him, standing her ground with defiance.

"We're late for class," she said, her irritation obvious as she pushed past him to walk down the hall. "And at least _I, unlike you, _have a note," she said mockingly. "We can discuss this later."

"Where are you going?" he asked, falling into step with her.

"To class," she said, as if he were a dunce.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, "Yes, obviously. I meant _which one_?"

"Magic of History," she said, then shaking her head, "I mean, History of Magic."

"Perfect, that's on the way to the Greenhouse. I can escort you there."

She sent him a nasty look that said she'd rather have her head shaved than have him escort her anywhere, but he chose to ignore it.

"So what _was_ that little meeting about?" Draco asked.

"I said, we'll discuss it later," Arabella said through gritted teeth, lengthening her steps to quicken the pace.

"Ah, yes," Draco said snidely, "but we both know that won't happen. Not really."

"You question my integrity?" Arabella feigned hurt.

"Integrity, no; sincerity, yes," came his reply as they rounded the corner. He saw the flicker of a smirk on her face from his peripheral vision.

"Oh look! Fancy that! Here's my class!" she said, skipping ahead.

"Ara—"

"—Ta ta for now!"

And she was through the door.

"—bella..."

_Damn._

Double Potions with the Gryffindors was scheduled for the block before lunch that day, just as Snape had told them during the summer. So it wasn't too long before Draco saw Arabella again. When the dungeon door creaked open, the class filed in, and the Golden Quartet took their usual table in the back on the left side of the classroom. Foreseeing this, but wanting to be able to spy on them, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle hung back as well to take the table next to them on the right side of the aisle.

"Settle down," said Snape coldly, shutting the door behind him. There was no real need for the call to order; the moment the class had heard the door close, quiet had fallen and all fidgeting stopped. Snape's mere presence was usually enough to ensure a class's silence. Draco shot a glance towards Arabella. Even she was sitting up, prim and proper, ready and attentive.

"Before we begin today's lesson," said Snape, sweeping over to his desk and starting around at them all, "I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of the class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my...displeasure."

His gaze lingered this time upon Longbottom, who gulped. Draco smirked and shared a look with Blaise, who was sitting in front of him.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," Snape went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying good-bye."

His eyes rested on Potter and his lip curled.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," said Snape softly, "so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T.," his gaze rested on Draco and then on Arabella for just a little longer than necessary, "or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students.

"Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Levels: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation."

Draco stole a glance at Arabella, who had suddenly become interested in adjusting her red and gold uniform tie. He knew that Snape had given her this same potion during her stay at Malfoy Manor. He wondered if she was still taking it on a regular basis.

"Be warned," Snape continued, "If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."

Draco saw Granger sit up a little straighter on Potter's left, as Arabella sank down in her chair on his right.

"The ingredients and method" – Snape flicked his wand – "are on the blackboard" – (they appeared there) – "you will find everything you need" – he flicked his wand again – "in the store cupboard" – (the door to the said cupboard sprang open) – "you have an hour and a half...Start."

As predicted, the potion was just as difficult and fiddly as Snape had indicated. The ingredients had to be added to the cauldron in precisely the right order and quantities; the mixture had to be stirred exactly the right number of times, firstly in clockwise, then in counterclockwise directions; the heat of the flames on which it was simmering had to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes before the final ingredient was added.

"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," called Snape, with ten minutes left to go.

Draco looked triumphantly at the silver vapor rising from his cauldron.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said as he passed by. Snape thankfully refrained from looking at either Crabbe's or Goyle's potions, which both looked (and smelled) dangerous. He did, however, make his way over to the Gryffindors. Finnigan's was nearly on fire, Weasley's was spitting green sparks, even Potter's was issuing copious amounts of dark gray steam. Only Granger and Arabella had the same shimmering mist of silver vapor. He passed by Granger's cauldron without a comment, meaning he had nothing to criticize. Continuing on, he stopped in front of Potter, looking down at him with a horrible smirk on his face.

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?"

Draco and his friends all turned eagerly to look; they loved hearing Snape taunt Potter.

"The Draught of Peace," said Potter tensely.

"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, "can you read?"

Draco laughed, but when he met Arabella's fierce stare, it faded instantaneously.

"Yes, I can," said Potter, his fingers clenched tightly around his wand. Arabella turned back to her friend's plight.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter."

Harry squinted at the blackboard; it was not easy to make out the instruction through the haze of multicolored steam now filling the dungeon.

"'Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore.'"

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," said Harry very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"No," said Harry, more loudly. "I forgot the hellebore..."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that his mess is utterly worthless. _Evanesco._"

The contents of Harry's potion vanished; he was left standing foolishly beside an empty cauldron. Draco snickered.

"Those of you who _have_ managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing," said Snape. "Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.

Draco took to the task of ladling some of his potion into a flask and labeling it. He looked out of the corner of his eye. Potter was seething, as he went about clearing away his things.

"Maybe we should sit up front next time," Arabella suggested quietly.

"I can see just fine," Potter snapped at her. "There's nothing wrong with my eyes."

"I didn't say there was," she said curtly. "I'm having trouble seeing through the mist, too, though."

"I can see just fine! I just forgot—"

"—Harry, I know!" Arabella cut him off. "I'm on your side. Don't _yell_ at me."

"Don't tell me your on my side when Snape's on yours," he snapped.

"_Harry!_" Granger scolded. "It's not her fault."

"I'm not saying this is fair," Arabella said curtly. "In fact, frankly, it's not. There are other potions much worse than yours," she motioned to Longbottom, who was trying to gouge his thick gray potion out of his cauldron. She lowered her voice to a whisper, "And I've seen this made before."

Potter opened his mouth to yell, but stopped when he saw Draco watching over Arabella's shoulder.

"What are _you_ looking at?" he asked coldly.

"Nothing, obviously," Draco replied, looking him up and down.

Arabella sent him a cold look as he went to place his flask up at the front of the room. When he made to return to his seat, Arabella was making her way to the front to deliver her own. Draco made sure to walk in such a way that their shoulders brushed more than just a little as they passed. When Draco'd gotten to his seat, Goyle's flagon had shattered from his boorish attempt at the Draught of Peace and had set his robes on fire. Snape quickly made his way from the front of the room to control the conflagration. The Gryffindors were eerily silent as they cleaned their potions away and began placing ingredients back in the store cupboard. Most of the class was nearly finished clearing their things when the bell rang.

"Miss Riddle, Mr. Malfoy, please stay after," Snape clipped his words. He said his as he organized parchment at his desk, betraying nothing.

"What's _that_ about?" Potter asked angrily.

Draco couldn't see her face, but he'd bet 5 galleons Arabella was rolling her eyes, "How should I know?"

Draco saw Granger send Arabella a sympathetic look. "We'll save you a place at lunch," she said, hoisting her book bag onto her shoulder. Potter was the last person to leave, sending a suspicious glance back at Draco and Snape. He didn't say anything to Arabella, who looked after him miserably.

"Approach," came Snape's cold voice from the front of the room.

Arabella sent Draco a very censorious look as she placed her book bag on her seat before walking beside him down the aisle to the front of the room.

Snape turned to regard the two students.

"I am pleased to see you two didn't misplace your potion-making skills over the summer," he said, looking over his long nose at them. "How are classes faring?"

"We've only had one so far, besides Potions," Arabella said, her voice flat and her arms crossed in front of her.

"Which Arabella was late to," Draco tattled.

"And so were you!" she turned on him immediately.

"Because I was keeping an eye on you!"

"Enough squabbling," Snape's voice curtly cut through their childish banter.

"Mr. Malfoy, your late arrival at class cannot be excused because of other duties. I do believe Professor Sprout already saw to the proper deduction of house points."

"But she was—" he began, motioning to Arabella.

"—in a private meeting with the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress—"

"But—"

"—which is none of your business or concern," Snape finished.

Draco crossed his arms in front of him, matching Arabella's moody stance. Snape's gaze flitted between the two teens, before he rolled his eyes at them.

"Now, as to your reports," Snape said, moving on, "I have taken the liberty to look at both your schedules. Mr. Malfoy, you will be meeting with me here on Monday and Thursday directly after your post-lunch class. Miss Riddle, you will report here on Wednesday mornings while Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are in Divination and Miss Granger is in Arithmancy; and again on Friday ten minutes into your scheduled break. That should give you ample time to traverse the necessary corridors from your Ancient Runes class, should it not?"

"Yes, sir," Arabella said, her arms still crossed.

"Additionally, you both will report to my office on Tuesday evenings at 7 o'clock. Mr. Malfoy you will arrive five minutes late so that neither of you seem conspicuously linked."

"Because sneaking away from friends to meet with you and being the Malfoys' ward all of a sudden isn't conspicuous or anything already," said Arabella sarcastically. Draco couldn't help but smirk.

"That is more than enough cheek for one day, Miss Riddle. You wouldn't want your father hearing about this, would you?"

"No, sir," she looked at her shoes.

"Very well, Mr. Malfoy, you are dismissed," Snape said.

Both students looked up at their professor with surprise. He held their gaze for a moment.

"Mr. Malfoy, you. Are. Dismissed."

Draco coughed slightly, and muttered, "Uh, yes, sir," before promptly turning on his heel to go. He lingered a little too long picking up his things, he guessed, based on the loud clearing of the throat and icy glare Snape sent his way as he finally scurried from the classroom. What could Snape possibly want to talk to Arabella about that he couldn't discuss with Draco as well? Draco walked only half-way down the hall before stopping to linger and wait. Ten minutes later, Arabella exited the dungeons. He heard the echoing _click-clack_ of her Mary Janes before he looked up to see her, that purple book bag slung over her shoulder again. She strode right past him, without acknowledging his presence.

"What did Snape want?"

She actually stopped to stare him in the face.

"You are unbelievable, you know that?" she snapped at him. "Don't you think Snape dismissed you because what he wanted to discuss with me was none of your business? Did that occur to you? Or do you think everything is about you?"

"Whoa, what's got you irked enough to bite my head off?" he asked defensively.

But Arabella simply threw her hands in the air with a growl before stalking once again towards the Great Hall and lunch, muttering "I _hate_ the first day of classes!"

The next morning, Draco was pleased to see his father's owl swoop down during breakfast to deliver a note to him. Gulping down one last glugg of pumpkin juice, Draco excused himself from the table early. Halfway through the entrance hall, he removed the letter from where he'd tucked it in his robes and ripped the seal off. He made his way through the front doors and into the courtyard, reading as he went.

_Draco,_

_Well done. Perhaps your observations will make up for your obvious failure at the Platform. It is believed that the half-breed is with his "people." No doubt the HM sent him to try and convince the "them" to join their cause, knowing full well the DL has already acquired the loyalty of most. _

_Your mother sends her love. To Arabella as well. _

_We expect an update tonight._

_Your Father_

So Hagrid was with the giants. Draco smirked before turning to get to class.

After lunch, Draco and the Slytherins made their way down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest for Care of Magical Creatures. As they approached, Draco caught sight of Potter and Weasley, just joining the already jabbering Granger and Arabella.

Draco nudged Blaise beside him, but spoke loud enough for all of the Slytherins walking with him to hear, "How long do you think it'll take for Potter to cry?"

"Over what?" Blaise played along.

"No Hagrid to fawn all over him in class," Draco continued. "At least this year class will actually resemble it's name: Care of Magical Creatures instead of Care of Blood-thirsty, Wizard-attacking, Deadly 'but tragically misunderstood creatures'" he finished, mimicking Hagrid's manner and voice.

The Slytherins gave a loud shout of laughter, more just to anger Potter than because Draco's comment had been terribly hilarious. Sure enough, Potter and Weasley turned to watch Draco and Slytherins approach.

"A galleon he'll last one lesson without mentioning the oaf," Blaise said to Draco.

"Not even a lesson," Draco shook his hand, as Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy continued to snigger, looking over at Potter, who continued to notice until Arabella pulled his attention away, much to Draco's disdain.

"Everyone here?" barked Professor Grubbly-Plank, once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. "Let's crack on then—who can tell me what these things are called?"

She indicated the heap of twigs in front of her. As expected, Granger's hand shot into the air. Draco pulled out his best impression of her, jutting his upper teeth over his lip to look buck-toothed and jumping up and down in mock-eagerness. Pansy gave a shriek of laughter that turned almost into a scream, as the twigs on the table leapt into the air and revealed their pixieish selves. They were creatures made of wood, each with knobbly brown arms and legs, two twiglike fingers at the end of each hand, and a funny, flat, barklike face in which a pair of beetle brown eyes glittered.

"Oooooh!" said Patil and Brown. Draco rolled his eyes, but just caught a glimpse of an irritated Potter sending them a nasty glance.

"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" said Professor Grubbly-Plank sharply, scattering a handful of what looked like brown rice among the stick-creatures, who immediately fell upon the food.

"So—anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?"

"Bowtruckles," said Hermione. "They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees."

"Five points for Gryffindor," said Professor Grubbly-Plank. "Yes, these are bowtruckles and, as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"

"Wood lice," said Granger promptly, which explained why the little brown rice were actually moving. "But fairy eggs if they can get them."

"Good girl, take another five points. So whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of wood lice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers—"

Draco caught Arabella shiver uncomfortable, as she continued to scribble down notes on a piece of parchment attached to a slate of wood.

"—which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a bowtruckle—I have enough here for one between three—you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labeled by the end of the lesson."

The class surged forward around the trestle table. Draco watched to see how the Golden Quartet would split up, hoping he could get Arabella into his drawing group. Potter circled around back, leaving Arabella with Ron and Granger, until he was standing next to Professor Grubbly-Plank near where Draco was standing.

"Where's Hagrid?" he asked her, while everyone else was choosing bowtruckles. Draco couldn't help but nudge and smirk at Blaise.

"That doesn't count, he's not crying," Blaise muttered under his breath.

"Never you mind," said Professor Grubbly-Plank repressively, which had been her attitude last time Hagrid had failed to turn up to class too. Draco leaned across Harry to seize the largest bowtruckle, smirking widely. Draco was overly pleased that he knew more about the Hogwarts groundkeeper than even Potter did.

"Maybe," he said in an undertone, so only Potter could hear, "the stupid great oaf's got himself badly injured."

"Maybe you will if you don't shut up," replied Potter out of the side of his mouth.

And Draco couldn't resist.

"Maybe he's been messing with stuff that's too _big_ for him, if you get my drift," Draco said, and then walked away, smirking over his shoulder at Potter, who suddenly paled.

Draco went to join Crabbe and Goyle, catching sight of Arabella talking with Granger, her hand on the bushy-haired girls arm as they faced different directions, until Arabella went to join Patil and Brown in drawing. Something was going on within the Golden Quartet; Arabella hadn't said a word to Potter or Weasley. He turned his attention back to bowtruckle at hand. He pulled out a piece of parchment and began drawing the creature.

"So what's with Grubbly-Plank?" Goyle asked curtly.

"Whad'ya mean?" Crabbe asked.

"Why is she here instead of Hagrid?" Goyle continued. "Do you think Hagrid got sacked?"

Draco raised his eyebrows and just barely nodded his head back toward Potter to indicate he wanted to make sure Potter heard him. The other two boys nodded and smirked.

"Yes," Malfoy made sure his voice had a clear drawl of superiority. "Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron _does _show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straight away."

"OUCH!"

Potter had given the shout in pain, obviously having been bitten or scratched by the bowtruckle he was squeezing. Draco knew he'd gotten to the scarhead, but he refrained from laughing just long enough to send the be-speckled boy a disdainful look. Crabbe and Goyle, who had already been guffawing at the idea of Hagrid being sacked, laughed still harder as the the bowtruckle set off at full tilt toward the forest, a little, moving stickman soon swallowed up by the tree roots. When the bell echoed distantly over the grounds, the Slytherins rolled up their bowtruckle pictures and headed back up to Charms. On the way up, Draco watched the Gryffindors carefully. Arabella hung back and walked with Brown and Patil, listening to their idle prattle about boys and clothes. The Gryffindors took a detour to the greenhouse for Herbology, as the Slytherins continued on into the castle.

After dinner, Draco excused himself from the Slytherin House table, where his friends were dawdling, eating sweets and swapping stories, trying to delay returning to the dormitories or the library to start in on the mountain of homework they'd already been assigned. He'd watched Arabella leave her respective table earlier. Their eyes had met briefly, and Draco nodded his head at her in indication that he'd see her soon. The halls were nearly empty as he made his way down to the dungeons. He passed a few older students leaving the Slytherin Common Room, their book bags laden down, headed in the direction of the library or study hall classroom. He continued on toward the Potions classroom, and as he approached, he heard voices. He quieted his footsteps so those within wouldn't hear his approach. He leaned against the wall just outside Snape's office, breathing lightly and struggling to hear:

"I don't understand why I have to go by Miss Riddle now," came Arabella's voice.

"Because your father requires it," Snape responded curtly.

"He rejected his father's last name, why is he now forcing it upon me?"

"It _is_ the name on your birth certificate."

"Says who?" came Arabella's skeptical voice. Draco just imagined her crossing her arms in front of her and her hip popped out. There was silence, which Draco took to mean Snape was giving her a significant look.

"I'm just so _tired_ of trying to explain to everyone why you and Umbridge are calling me Miss Riddle all of a sudden—not even! It's just you—and then Umbridge had to go and ask me in front of the whole class what name I chose." Arabella's voice hitched at the end, as if she were about to cry.

"What are the other professors calling you?" came Snape's skeptical voice.

"The same as always," she said softly, "Miss Bella."

Snape growled and said something under his breath that Draco couldn't make out.

"There's no reason for them to change what they call me after so many years!" she insisted.

"Riddle is your last name," Snape said tartly, "Because your father rejected it, few know it is his actual last name. And he'll keep it that way until the Ministry discovers his return is real."

"And then what? I'll be little lady Voldemort?" the sarcasm was so thick, Draco swore he heard a drip-drop of it fall to the floor.

There was a hiss as Snape reacted to her use of the Dark Lord's name aloud. "You'll be careful with your language in these walls."

"Dumbledore says the fear of the name—"

"I know perfectly well what _the Headmaster _believes," Snape interrupted, correcting her casual use of the Headmaster's name.

"Plus, there's only one Gryffindor who doesn't believe Harry—"  
>"And dozens of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws," Snape interrupted her. "Be more careful."<p>

Arabella continued, her voice now filled with sorrow, "It's common knowledge now that I was with the Malfoys this summer. How am I to explain that? It's only a matter of time till they find out about who I am."

Draco was filled with a sudden anguish that the pleasure he derived from her presence this summer was causing her pain.

"And _that_," Snape said curtly, but softly, "is when you'll discover who your real friends are."

"Everyone will hate me."

"Do Harry, Hermione or Ron hate you?"

"Hermione doesn't," she said softly and slowly.

"And Potter?"

"He's angry at me for some reason. I don't know what I did!"

"Aside from successfully completing the Draught of Peace, I would guess nothing," Snape said snidely, "And who cares what Weasley thinks?"

Arabella let out a giggled choked by a sob.

"And you would do well not to write off Draco so quickly," Snape continued. Arabella sniffed, but this time in disapproval not because of her tears. "Don't roll your eyes at me, Miss Riddle. Remember that when you are abandoned for your name, Draco will still be there for you."

"You mean he'll be there for my father," Arabella insisted, and Draco felt his heart sink. "I will never be able to tell him anything while second-guessing what he'll tell the Dark Lord."

Snape let out an indignant "humph" before saying in an uncharacteristically sing-song voice, "Don't judge a book by it's cover."

"I don't think being acquainted with someone for four years constitutes a snap-judgement," Arabella said darkly.

"Yes, but reading the summary and reading cover-to-cover are two very different things."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Permission granted."

"Don't give up your day job," Arabella said, "Your analogies stink."

Snape chuckled gently in a manner Draco'd never heard.

"It's more than five past, we should be expecting Draco soon," Snape's snippy voice returned. "It would be beneficial for you to act as if we didn't have this little discussion prior to Draco arriving. Do you understand?"

"What discussion?" Arabella replied sweetly. The little joke made Draco smirk.

"Exactly."

There was a silence, which Draco let settle as he silently backpedaled down the hall. He wanted his re-approaching footsteps to echo against the dungeon walls to indicate his arrival so there would be no reason to suspect his eavesdropping. When he deemed his distance far enough away, he straightened up, readjusted his Slytherin tie, and strode proudly and swiftly toward Snape's office as if it were second nature.

Draco knocked politely on the doorframe to indicate his approach, before peering around to look in the open door. Arabella was seated in one of the chairs in front of Snape's office. She looked up at his presence, raising his eyebrows in slight displeasure at his tardiness.

"You're late."

"Grabbe and Coyle—I mean, Crabbe and Goyle—"

Arabella giggled.

"No matter, take a seat."

_A/N: Reviews make me write faster (HINT HINT). Next chapter will be the meeting with Snape...and more._


	8. Chapter 8

_**Diclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. All rights to JK Rowling. Some of this chapter was taken from scenes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (US edition) pp 239-249; 286-292._

**VIII. Every Right**

After Draco had plopped down into the seat next to Arabella, Snape leaned forward in his seat to study the two students sitting before him. He stood suddenly and began pacing back and forth before them. Draco looked at Arabella, who returned the glance with a shrug.

"Here is how these meetings will be run," Snape began, clasping his hands behind his back. "I will receive updates from Miss Riddle, followed by updates from Mr. Malfoy. When one of you is speaking the other will not interrupt. If you have a disagreement to voice, you will do so when the other is finished speaking. If, a rebuttal is desired, you may request one. I may decide to grant or deny your request."

"So you're the judge and we're the lawyers?" Arabella asked sarcastically.

Snape turned on his heel to regard her, "Exactly."

She let out a puff of air, which lifted her bangs briefly from her forehead, and crossed her arms.

"After updates are received, you will answer any questions I have. I will give you any news or instructions for the following week. Any dishonestly will be dealt with during our personal meetings. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," Draco nodded.

"Miss Riddle?" Snape turned to her, since she hadn't moved.

She mumbled something.

"Pardon me?"

"_Crystal_."

"_Wonderful!_" Snape said in such a way that made Draco believe it was anything but. "Now, how are your classes going?"

Arabella looked at Draco, and he returned the gaze this time. He soon realized she was waiting for him to speak first.

"Uh," he began. "Not much has changed since yesterday, sir."

"Yes," Arabella agreed. "Although, it seems like one of the professors...or maybe two..._may_ have mentioned a _test_ or _something_. I don't know...it's like the professors are trying to impress upon us the importance of something at the end of this year."

Draco smirked.

"What was it?" she tapped a finger to her chin, feigning deep thought.

"That's quite enough, now, Miss Riddle," Snape drawled. "We realize most of you are already aware of the O.W.L.s, but every year, it comes as a surprise to more than a few students that they should have been studying for exams all along."

"Yes, well," she said, "if all of you lecturing us about it on the first days of class weren't enough, the mountainous load of homework will remind us."

Draco hummed in grim agreement, nodding his head and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He'd forgotten about all that homework he'd been assigned—which he guiltily felt like he should be working on instead of sitting in the meeting at hand.

"Why Miss Riddle," Snape smirked knowingly, "Are you _whining?_"

Draco watched Arabella's mouth drop in horror. "I—I—of course not!" she twittered irritably. "I'm just pointing out that you have drilled into us the obvious!"

From the way Arabella was acting, one would think the word "whining" was a swear word.

Arabella crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked away, mumbling: "I don't _whine_. That's Ron's specialty."

"Well, since you aren't whining, would you care to deliver your update?" Snape touched his fingertips together in a rather sinister way.

Arabella sighed deeply, "There isn't really anything to report."

Snape raised his eyebrows in surprise.

She sighed again, "Which is to say, nothing to report that you don't already know."

Draco flinched for a moment, wondering if she had forgotten her agreement not to refer to their meeting prior to his arrival. But she quickly caught herself:

"I mean, I'm sure you've heard about Harry's outbursts. He had one after your class, sir. And then again in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I don't doubt that Professor Umbridge already informed you..."

Snape regarded her indifferently, "Enlighten us."

Arabella looked down at her hands neatly folded in her lap and sighed. She began to re-describe Potter's outburst in Potions. She kept looking at them expectantly, hoping they would tell her she could skip it since they had both been present. Draco began to believe it was a form of torture to her, and that Snape knew it.

"And that's when he stomped off to lunch, leaving us to speak with you Professor."

"And...?"

"And what?" Arabella asked, confused.

"And how has his behavior towards you been since then?"

"Surly."

If Draco hadn't know better, he would have sworn he saw Snape roll his eyes.

"Have you two spoken?"

"Does 'good morning' count?"

Snape glared at her.

"Then no."

"Very well, make sure you mend the bridges burned by the end of the week."

"I'm sorry, what?" she exclaimed.

Snape leaned onto his desk and whispered, cutting his words to be disturbingly clear. "You and Potter need to be best mates again by the end of the week."

"How am I supposed to do that? I'm not the one in need of an attitude adjustment!" she exclaimed.

"I don't care," he drawled, and when she opened her mouth to speak he continued, "And neither does your _father_."

Arabella threw her hands in the air, "His moodiness is not my problem!"

"It is now."

Arabella pursed her lips in irritation, grumbling something inaudibly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Draco said, grinning amusedly.

"Your turn!" she said brightly, turning to him and crossing her legs in feigned anticipation and interest.

"Oh, no, no, no," he said, wagging a finger mockingly at her, "let's not get ahead of ourselves! I'd really like to hear about what happened in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

She narrowed her eyes at him. If looks could kill...

But true to fashion, Draco just stared back, the corners of his mouth threatening to curve upward in amusement. He had to admit, she was incredibly attractive even when she was angry: her brown eyes darkened and her cheeks flushed, making her face rosy and luminous.

"Yes, Miss Riddle," Snape intervened before Arabella's glare made Draco burst into flames, "what was his outburst in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

She heaved a resigned sigh and began again:

"So Professor Umbridge gave us the mini-lecture I'm sure she gave the other upper-classmen: we've had a 'fragmented' education of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and this term we'll be following a 'theory-centered, Ministry-approved course'..." Arabella mimicked Umbridge's voice so perfectly both Snape and Draco had a hard time refraining from grinning.

"So she set us to reading the really dull textbook—no lecture, no spells, no discussion. I mean, we might as well have no class!" Arabella obviously had caught herself mid-rant and sighed again, "Anyway, Hermione decided not to read, but instead raised her hand and waited for Professor Umbridge to call on her. She pointed out to Professor Umbridge that there was no course aim about _using_ defensive spells in class. And Professor Umbridge said of course not—why would we ever need to in a classroom situation. That's when a general uproar occurred. Most of the students didn't seem to like that idea. And finally Professor Umbridge asked the stupidest question to ever pose to Harry Potter..." and again Arabella mimicked that sickly sweet voice in the most uncanny manner: "'Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?'"

Arabella looked expectantly at Professor Snape. He nearly raised his eyebrows for her to continue. "And Harry said," here Arabella mimicked a deeper teenage-boy voice: "'Hmm, let's think...maybe, _Lord Voldemort._' Professor Umbridge began damage control—insisting that was a lie, and Harry got angrier and angrier, trying to tell what really happened last year and whatnot. That's when Umbridge gave him detention." There was another deep sigh from Arabella. "We were directed to keep reading, but Harry obviously wasn't done since he audaciously accused Professor Umbridge of implying that Cedric 'dropped dead of his own accord,' I think is how he put it. That's when Umbridge sent him to McGonagall."

"_Professor_ Umbridge and _Professor_ McGonagall," Snape corrected her.

"Yes, yes, of course," Arabella said drearily.

"And where were you in all of this?" Snape asked, knowing smile dancing across his lips.

"Trying to contain my indignant hatred."

"How did that go?"

"Not well."

"Oh?" Snape actually seemed surprised. "Professor Umbridge indicated to me that you were the only student who hadn't back-talked. She was pleased to see you living up to the reputation of your guardians' family name."

"Yes, well, that backfired later."

"How so?"

Arabella grimaced and ran her hand down the side of her face in frustration, "Harry confronted me about not backing him up. He didn't understand why I didn't assert the existence and danger of Lord Voldemort like he did. I tried to tell him that it was futile, and that the Ministry regulations weren't really a surprise to me because of the dinner we had with the Minister and Professor Umbridge before the start of term, but he wouldn't have it. So I guess that's part of the reason we're not talking."

"Well, do whatever you have to do to get make sure you _are_ talking by the end of the week," Snape asserted.

"For once in my life I behave myself and it's gotten me into trouble..." Arabella grumbled under her breath.

Draco smirked at this; Snape simply ignored her.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"Aside from Arabella missing class, which has already been discussed, I don't believe there is an update."

"Very well," Snape nodded.

Arabella huffed, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Do I hear on objection, Miss Riddle?" Snape regarded her over his nose.

"Yes,_ your honor,_" she said, mimicking a court room, "The prosecution wasn't fully cross-examined."

"That is none of your concern," Snape asserted, and upon seeing her grimace: "_Over_-_ruled_. Remember, my courtroom, my rules."

"Yes, sir."

"I would like to remind both of you that the Dark Lord is very displeased with both of you after the Hogwarts Express Incident." Snape said very seriously.

"Is that it's official name, then?" Arabella asked cheekily, and then in a dramatic voice: "The Hogwarts Express Incident of '95!"

Snape simply glared.

"Fine, fine, no more sarcasm, I get it."

"It would do well for both of you to _behave_," he held his gaze pointedly at Arabella, "and to fulfill your duties as instructed," this time he looked at Draco, his gaze heavy.

There was silence from the two. Draco could feel his shoulders had hunched in a very un-Malfoy like way. When he stole a glance at Arabella, she looked much the same. They were carrying more weight than any fifteen year olds should.

"Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they said in awkward unison.

"Miss Riddle, you are dismissed. I will see you tomorrow morning while your fellow-Gryffindors are in class," Snape said, his voice lighter and his posture more relaxed.

"Yes, sir. Good night," she got up to leave without a protest, while Draco remained behind, perturbed. He watched over his shoulder as she made her way toward the door of the office. She stopped, peering around the corners, as if checking for traffic or orienting herself for the first time, before she chose the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

Draco turned back to Snape.

"Anything you'd like to tell me now that Miss Riddle is gone?"

Draco thought for a moment, debating what Snape really needed to hear. Draco had overheard Arabella tell Snape about Umbridge asking what name she should go by, but she'd obviously held back the whole story. Furthermore, by telling Snape, Draco would protect himself from any suspicion of eavesdropping over her conversation with Snape prior to his arrival.

"There is one part of the Professor Umbridge story I'd already heard," Draco admitted, his words spoken slowly and deliberately.

"Yes..."

"It carried around school quite quickly."

Snape was losing his patience.

"And it might be part of the reason Potter is so angry with her, and perhaps why she behaved herself the rest of class that day."

"Get on with it Draco," Snape slipped into the familiar form of addressing him.

"Umbridge may have questioned Arabella's choice of name," Draco spat out quickly.

Snape looked confused for a moment, so much so he forgot to correct Draco's lack of formal title for Umbridge, "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean."

"Well, Professor Umbridge is still learning all of our names. She of course knows Potter, Arabella and myself. But when Professor Umbridge first met Arabella, she hadn't decided what name she would be going by during the term. And, well, all of the professors who already knew her as Miss Bella continue to call her that—except for you. So Arabella told Professor Umbridge that."

Snape's lip curled, but Draco couldn't tell if it was in amusement or anger.

"I'm sure that went well," Snape said snidely.

"There was a short argument between the two about how Arabella should honor her new family by being Miss Malfoy..." Draco trailed off pointedly. Even though Arabella hadn't any say in the matter, they had all been present during the discussion of Arabella's name. Technically it should be Arabella Riddle, but the Dark Lord had rejected his father's name for a reason. She very well couldn't go by Miss Voldemort, as that would reveal too much information and was an oft-feared name in and of itself. And Miss Malfoy wouldn't function because, well—one day she would be Mrs. Malfoy, and it was best not to confuse people more than strictly necessary. So Miss Riddle it had to be.

"And what was Miss _Riddle's_ response?" Snape said.

"Well, according to one story she entered into a screaming match with Professor Umbridge, shouting at the top of her lungs that she'd die before being called 'Malfoy'-that's my personal favorite, due to the irony, of course."

It was also the one Pansy was telling, at the top of her lungs, over and over again in the Slytherin common room.

"Then there's the version where she insisted Umbridge call her Miss Bella over and over again until Umbridge gave her detention."

Draco paused. He imagined that if Arabella had detention, Snape would already know and would have confronted her earlier.

Draco sighed, "And the last one, which I believe is the actual truth, is that she implied that everyone called her Miss Bella still. When Professor Umbridge suggested Miss Malfoy was more appropriate, Arabella indicated that her _family_ had decided that her legal name would be Miss Arabella Riddle."

Draco emphasized family for a reason. He'd heard all three of the versions of the story told more than once. And this last one varied slightly with each telling, expect that Arabella had said, "My family and I have decided..." Based on the expression on his face, it surprised Snape as well.

"So you and Professor Umbridge are the only two calling her Miss Riddle," Draco finished.

"No doubt that may have contributed to Potter's mood," Snape said after a moment. Draco wasn't sure if Snape was referring to the choice of last name, the use of the word "family," or the entire conversation occurring in the first place. Draco decided it didn't matter.

"They really aren't speaking," Draco found himself saying aloud what he thought was only in his mind. When he realized he'd spoken he continued, "Arabella paired with Patil and Brown in Care of Magical Creatures, steering very clear of Potter. She even sat with others—including Finnigan, who doesn't believe Potter about the return of the Dark Lord—at dinner that day."

Draco thought for a moment. He knew Arabella was on Potter's side, through and through. She would never purposefully align herself with the likes of Finnigan on an issue like the Dark Lord. So either she had no idea of the implication of her seating choice, or she'd been directed to do so by her father. The only thing was, she wouldn't ever willingly perform a duty her father requested of her. And yet, she'd done two things becoming of the daughter of the Dark Lord—played into the "family" of the Malfoys and aligned herself with someone who doesn't believe Harry Potter.

"Did the Dark Lord—?"

Snape shook his head, quickly understanding what gears had turned in Draco's head, "She's done it of her own accord. I don't know why."

There was silence, as both men found themselves in thought.

Snape was the first to break the silence: "Any other reports?"

"No, sir."

"Your father has asked me to remind you to get on the good side of Professor Umbridge. She is connected to the Ministry and will likely have more power over things at Hogwarts than other mere professors. It will do well to earn her trust and keep it."

"Yes, sir."

Draco was pretty sure that was already in the bag. The pre-term dinner had helped.

"Alright," Snape said, resigned. "Remember our Thursday meeting, Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, sir."

"That ends our scheduled discussion," Snape said, leaning back in his chair.

It wasn't quite a dismissal. Draco eyed his mentor.

"Is there something outside the topics of our scheduled discussions you'd like to say, sir?"

Snape regarded Draco for a moment, his lips pursed and perched upon his pointer fingers.

"It may not have dawned on you, Draco," he noted Snape's use of his first name, "but what Arabella needs right now is a friend."

Draco was surprised that it _hadn't_ dawned on him. Usually he would have picked up on such an opportunity—one capable of easy manipulation for his own benefit.

"Her life has been turned upside down, her best friend isn't talking to her, and she's being pitied, ridiculed or ignored by just about everyone at this school right now. This is the perfect time for you to step up as a friend and earn her trust."

"She wants nothing to do with me," Draco argued. "She made that perfectly clear this summer."

"You've never given her a reason to want anything to do with you, Draco. You've only ever been rivals," Snape talked over him.

"There was no reason to be anything else," Draco defended himself. "She was a Gryffindor. She was one of the Golden Quartet. I didn't know who she really was."

Snape got quiet, "Don't make excuses, Draco."

Draco felt like he'd been splashed with a bucket of cold water.

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

Draco thought back to the day at the Lake House, when drenched and shivering, she had fled from him on the porch, seemingly realizing that she couldn't possibly consort with Draco _Malfoy_. He feared she'd never accept him.

"I don't know if I can ever win her trust," Draco admitted.

"Be there for her," Snape suggested before adding, "and be consistent. _Per_sistent. Respectful."

Draco nodded, resigned.

Saturday arrived, and none too soon. Draco felt overwhelmed with the amount of work he had to do, and yet, he knew it would all get done—it always did. Somehow. He, Theo and Blaise headed down to breakfast, leaving Crabbe and Goyle still trying to get out of bed. Draco could not prevent himself from stealing a glance at the Gryffindor table as they entered. Arabella sat beside Granger with Weasley across from them. Potter was conspicuously absent. Draco poured himself a cup of coffee and watched as Arabella turned in her seat to discuss something with Granger, her hands gripped around a coffee mug that was undoubtedly filled with tea. She said something that made Granger laugh, and Arabella giggled infectiously. Draco couldn't prevent a small grin from gracing his features.

Potter arrived just before the post did, looking pleased with himself. He took his seat across from Arabella, barely pausing in thought before he did so. Arabella stood to leave upon his arrival, but Granger jerked her arm down to make her sit, pointing to an article in the newspaper that had just arrived. All four heads bent closely, and a whispering-fit began.

Draco's attention was pulled away, however as Pansy led a lumbering Crabbe and Goyle to sit with them.

"Good morning," she said, far too brightly for the half-cup of coffee Draco hadn't yet consumed. He downed his cup in one gulp, receiving a glare from her.

"'Morning, Pansy," Blaise said, piling more food onto his plate before Crabbe and Goyle cleaned them out.

"So, Drakey, I was thinking we should head down to the Quidditch pitch later."

"Were you?" Draco said, refilling his coffee cup. "It hadn't dawned on me that you did much thinking, Pansy."

She sneered, and he met her glare with a sarcastic smile as the other boys sniggered.

"Yes, we should. The Gryffindors are practicing with their new Keeper."

Draco raised his eyebrows and turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who were now paying attention to something other than the pancakes on their plates. They nodded in answer to his unstated question.

"Perhaps we should. When?"

"After lunch," Pansy said, daintily adding heap-fuls of brown sugar onto her oatmeal.

Draco just nodded. He knew better than to ask how she knew the Gryffindors were practicing this afternoon. Either way it would be a good opportunity to spy: on both the opposing team and Arabella.

After lunch, Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle and Draco followed Potter, Weasley and Arabella from a distance as they headed down to the Quidditch Pitch. Arabella followed the two boys at a distance, almost awkwardly, her head down as she stared at the grass beneath her feet. Draco actually found himself feeling sadness for her—not pity, but rather...sympathy. He shrugged it off, not quite certain if feeling sympathy for her was a good or bad thing. She was in a unique position in relation to him: the object of his affection, the subject of his spying, and his Quidditch and House opponent. What a predicament.

As the team changed into their uniforms, the Slytherins took their places in the stands. As the Gryffindor team exited the locker room, Draco caught sight of Weasley and Potter talking heatedly with Arabella about her broom. She was defending herself as best as she could—she had always relied on school brooms before, and now that her broom could outfly Potter's, Draco could see the jealousy and anger written all over his face knowing who the broom had come from.

"What's that Weasley's riding?" Draco called in his sneering drawl, finding himself suddenly coming to the defense of Arabella, even if in a round-about way. "Why would anyone put a Flying Charm on a moldy old log like that?"

Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy guffawed and shrieked with laughter. Weasley and Potter just mounted their brooms and kicked off. Arabella spun on him, sending him a fiery glare.

"Stay out of it, Malfoy," she yelled at him.

"Ignore them," Draco heard Johnson, the Captain, say quietly to Arabella before kicking off. She called the team to order, and Arabella joined them in some passing drills.

"Hey, Johnson, what's with that hairstyle anyway?" Pansy shrieked up at them. "Why would anyone want to look like they've got worms coming out of their head?"

The team did a decent job of ignoring them. When Weasley dropped his first pass from Potter, Draco led his fellow Slytherins in a hearty round of roaring and screaming with laughter. Based on Weasley's less-than-stellar ability to correct his mistake and the bright red color of his blush, Draco guessed that they had him decently nervous.

They began passing again, and Draco decided to take a jab at Potter, who had been sending meaningful glares Arabella's way as she continued to pass the Quaffle with her usual elegance and strength.

"Hey, Potter, how's your scar feeling?" called Draco. "Sure you don't need a lie-down? It must be, what, a whole week since you were in the hospital wing, that's a record for you, isn't it?"

Weasley finally caught the Quaffle on his third attempt, and in pure relief, he passed it on so enthusiastically that it soared straight through Katie's outstretched hands and hit her hard in the face. Draco and his friends laughed heartily, though Katie's nose was bleeding. Arabella was passed the ball next, and when she readied her own pass, her wind up was so ferocious, Draco wondered if she was going to launch it at Potter or Weasley in anger and retaliation. That was, until he saw the bright red ball come pummeling toward his own head. He barely ducked in time, but the Quaffle left a nice dent in the bleachers.

It was the Gryffindors' turn to laugh.

Arabella flew forward to retrieve the ball.

"Oh, I'm _sooo_ sorry! Did I hurt you?" she said in a mockingly sweet voice.

"You could have taken my head off!" Draco bellowed back.

"That was sort of the point," she gritted through her teeth, her eyes flashing with anger. "Why don't you just leave us alone?"

"We have every right to be here," Pansy stepped in, crossing her arms in front of her defiantly.

"Yeah, well, I have every right to steal Fred's bat and send a Bludger your way," she said nonchalantly. "Just sayin'"

With a casual shrug and fake smile, she grabbed the Quaffle and sped away.

"She—she's not serious, is she?" Pansy suddenly began checking her hair style nervously.

"I wouldn't put it passed her," Draco said, staring after her in awe.

_AN: Sorry it's taken so long! Thanks to the reviewers who keep them coming. I took so long with this that the links to reply to those reviewers no longer worked...in response to the question of where the lake house is (since I said it was much cooler)-I debated about the location. I wavered between Northwestern United States (Sierra Nevada mountains) or a lake in Austria. I did a little research and thought about mentioning an actual Lake, but I definitely wanted it to be it's own entity. So I'd say this lake house is located in the Alps in Austria, Switzerland or Northern Italy, which would also explain the snow run-off comment._


	9. Chapter 9

_**Diclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. All rights to JK Rowling. Some of this chapter was taken from scenes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (US edition) _

**IX. Every Wrong**

Classes continued on, the professors cramming new information, new spells and lots of homework down their students' throats. Dolores Umbridge had been named the "Hogwarts High Inquisitor" and was running inspections on all of the professors. The meetings with Snape continued. Since there were individual meetings between Snape and Arabella as well as the ones Draco had with Snape, there were inevitably two sides to every story. There was forever a tug-of-war between them of "he-said-she-said" nonsense. And even though Potter continued to treat Arabella in an atrocious manner, she continued to defend him. It drove Draco absolutely insane that she would be friends with someone so self-centered without even _considering_—without _deigning_ to give Draco, who was doing his best to treat her with the utmost respect, a second chance.

It wasn't long after Umbridge was named High Inquisitor that Arabella really laid into Draco during the Care of Magical Creatures lesson Umbridge was inspecting. He'd quite easily drawn attention to the Hippogriff incident when Umbridge asked about previous injuries in the class. Arabella had actually beaten Potter in his attempt to accuse Draco of overreacting. Umbridge did not approve at all of Arabella speaking out against Draco, who was already one of her favorites, and had actually given her detention. That backfired in more than one way. First of all because, in the opinion of Snape, Lucius Malfoy and Arabella, it was Draco's fault she'd gotten detention. And secondly, for some reason Draco didn't understand, Arabella serving detention with Potter only made Potter angrier at her. Far be it for him to understand the inner-workings of Potter's deranged mind.

Only, everything was revealed to Draco during his meeting with Snape. As usual.

"Miss Riddle disclosed to me why Potter has been angrier at her since the detention they served together," Snape got right down to business after Draco had taken his seat and stolen a chocolate frog from the small glass jar hidden at the edge of Snape's desk.

"And she couldn't share that piece of information during our joint meeting?" Draco asked, his voice a little incredulous.

"No," Snape said curtly.

Draco's lips twitched in discomfort, which he tried to hide by shoving the chocolate into his mouth all at once.

"Dolores Umbridge has been utilizing..._unorthodox_ methods of punishment in her detentions. She, however, refrained from using such methods with Arabella, knowing full well the fall-out that would occur should your father discover it. Potter was upset that Arabella did not suffer as he has been over the past several weeks."

"What sort of punishment are you alluding too, sir?"

"She has them write lines," Snape coughed lightly, "with a quill that uses one's own blood as ink, by cutting whatever is written into the back of the hand."

Draco's jaw dropped as he imagined the scar that would be left on Arabella's smooth skin had she used the quill. His mother would have been appalled, and his father furious enough to demand reparations had Arabella been treated in such a way. Draco was incredibly glad Arabella had his parents to protect her—after so many years during which she had no one as her advocate.

"So Arabella used a normal quill?" Draco asked, just for confirmation.

"Yes, of course," Snape said. "Dolores isn't stupid. But Potter used the cutting quill, and as such took his ager at the disparity of the situation out on Miss Riddle."

Draco nodded in understanding.

There was a moment of silence as Draco waited for a lecture. It never came.

Draco was dismissed from the meeting not long after. As he made his way toward the dungeons and the Slytherin dormitories, he heard voices in the courtyard. He stopped among the pillars, listening and watching as he saw two figures talking near the fountain.

"You have to _talk_ to me, Harry!" came Arabella's clear voice. Draco hid behind a large pillar, listening intently to the exchange.

"Why? I don't _have _to do anything!"

"You are acting so immature! Since when do you treat me the way a 13-year-old girl treats the friend who danced with the guy she fancies at the sock hop? I mean, really!"

"Sock hop?" Draco heard Potter snort.

"Are you laughing derisively at my 1950s American pop culture reference?" Arabella said quickly and angrily, which just made it all the more amusing.

"Yes."

Draco peered around the pillar to see her shrug, "I sort of deserve it."

"Sock hop? Really?" Potter said again.

"'I don't _have_ to do anything!'" Arabella mocked his whiny voice from just moments ago. "Really?"

The two teenagers just stared at each other. Potter had his arms crossed in front of him defensively, while Arabella had her hands on her hips.

"Why are you so angry, anyway?" Arabella softened slightly.

"I don't know," Potter ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm angry about Umbridge and detention, I hate her stupid decrees and missing Quidditch practice, I'm angry about my grades and O.W.L.s, my scar hurts, I'm angry about this summer and being out-of-the-loop on everything, the Dementors and the trial, having you be at the Malfoys instead of with us, I'm angry about what happened last year and how no one believes me..."

"Lots of us believe you, Harry," Arabella said gently.

"But there are so many who don't!" came Potter's next outburst.

"Harry, I was _there_! I was out-of-the-loop all summer. I dislike Umbridge just as much as the next person, especially since I know she's reporting on me to Lucius Malfoy. If anyone understands what you're going through, it's me!"

"I know, I know," Potter lamented.

"So why are treating me like crap?" Arabella's voice cracked with emotion.

"Because Umbridge treats you like she treats Malfoy. Because you wouldn't back me up in front of her. And Snape treats you like an angel! It's like, we both went through what happened at the graveyard last year and you came out with a family and everyone adoring you, while I came out with everyone telling me I'm crazy and lying to my face to 'protect me'." Draco saw Potter mockingly use his fingers as air quotes.

"Oh, Harry!" Arabella was really crying now, and Draco wanted to go to her, even though he would have no idea how to make her feel better and knew it would only make things worse. "All this time you've been feeling alone and mistreated, but what you don't realize is I've been the exact same!"

"But you have Malfoy, and your _new broom_ and your new clothes and your new life," Potter said derisively.

"No, Harry. I lost my old life. All I heard all summer is about who I'm supposed to be. I lost my identity in that graveyard when they told me who I 'really' was. I don't know who I really am anymore. You should know, better than anyone, you've always been my family. You and Hermione and Ron. _They—_the Malfoys—will never replace you. Don't forget, I'm on your side."

Draco peeked out again from behind the pillar to see Potter looking at his feet as he rolled a rock around with his shoe. He mumbled something.

"Pardon?" Arabella leaned forward, a finger behind her ear. She was obviously grinning.

"I'm sorry, Bells."

"You're forgiven."

Draco watched, and his heart sank into his belly as Potter looked up at Arabella and opened his arms welcomingly.

"Missed you too, Harry," she said, going to him and hugging him back.

They turned, and Arabella linked her arm through Potter's as they walked in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

"Sock hop, _really_?" Draco barely heard the whisper as he saw a smile break out across Arabella's face.

"I'm never gonna live that one down, am I?" she asked, feigning misery.

"Not on your life," Potter teased.

As their voices faded into the background, Draco felt they were far enough away so that he could move and make his own way back to the Slytherin dormitories, a large granite stone settling at the bottom of his stomach, which could only be disappointment.

The following morning, Arabella was not in the Great Hall when Draco arrived for breakfast. She had fallen into the habit in the past few weeks of arriving early so as to avoid Potter. Draco sighed as he sat and poured some coffee, resigning himself to expect her to return to her usual habits. Halfway through his oatmeal, two simultaneous arrivals occurred. The post arrived, with dozens of owls descending on the Great Hall. And the Golden Quartet arrived, fully intact. Only, Potter led the way, something dangling his hands as he chanted something. Draco couldn't make it out over the flapping of wings, but in flounced Arabella after him, begging for whatever it was in his hands. Draco barely noticed the letter his father's owl delivered as Arabella attempted to tackle Potter, jumping up in her—stocking feet?-to reach, ahhhhh...Draco realized, her shoes. Potter was mocking her sock hop comment from the night before by making her _hop_ in her _socks_. Heh. None too clever, that one. Granger and Weasley took their seats as Arabella at last obtained her shoes. She was laughing and smiling as she slipped them on quickly, but as she adjusted her Mary Janes, her smile fell and her face paled. Draco squirmed in his seat to see what she had seen. A jet black owl sat before her, a letter tied to its foot. Draco smirked, turning back to his own letter, fairly positive he knew from whom Arabella had received post this morning.

The message was unmistakably in his father's scrawl, but uncharacteristically short in content:

_Ask her on a date. Hogsmeade weekend. _

Draco looked up to see Arabella open her letter. Apparently it was short as well: it took only a moment for her to raise her eyes—and they went straight to him. The brown orbs darkened with anger and resentment until Draco could see that indeed she had inherited some of her father's physical traits. She pointed to him, to herself and then the door. Draco nodded curtly, then swigging his coffee, he took his leave from his chums. They walked toward the entrance of the Great Hall from the respective House tables. When they exited the Great Hall, Arabella grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him out the door and down the steps. She didn't let go of his arm until she had dragged him to the small garden created to decorate one of the wall insets of the castle. She dropped his arm quickly and rounded on him, her cheeks rosy with—well, Draco couldn't tell if it was anger, embarrassment or irritation.

"What. Is. _THIS?_" she waved a small piece of paper in his face.

"It seems you received some post this morning," Draco drawled, crossing his arms and leaning on the castle wall.

Arabella emitted a sound that landed somewhere between a growl and a scream.

"Would you like me to read it to you? It seems you've lost your faculties this morning," Draco offered amusedly.

He took the letter from his grasp and read a similarly short message, penned not from his father, but another tight penmanship he'd bet came from her father:

_When he asks you out, say yes. Be good, little one._

He looked up at her, his upper lip pulling up at the side uncontrollably.

"So, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" Draco asked.

"No, I would not like to go to Hogsmeade with you this weekend!" Arabella hissed.

Draco couldn't resist waving the little piece of parchment in front of her, "Now, now...'be good, _little one_,'" he drawled.

"Sod off!"

"Tsk tsk, what would your father say?"

Arabella fixed him with a stare that made his cheeks burn. He worried his pale features had betrayed him.

"Come one, Arabella," he finally sighed. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."

"No, _Malfoy_, I will not be controlled by our fathers!" she said angrily, and then crossing her arms, "And don't you find it pathetic that our fathers have to set us up? I mean, if you wanted to ask me out, you should have mustered the courage to ask me yourself."

"We'll have fun," Draco continued casually, ignoring her latter comment, which rang a little too true for Draco's pride to swallow. "We'll window shop, stop in at Honeydukes, have some lunch and walk back to campus with plenty of time for you to study a little before dinner."

Arabella huffed unpleasantly, obviously angry.

"I can't _go_ to Hogsmeade, Malfoy," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "And even if I could, I wouldn't want to go with _ you!_"

With tears already trailing down her pale cheeks, she took off, leaving both pieces of parchment in Draco's hands. He let his hands fall to his sides as he watched her flee.

"What was that all about?" he mumbled, because obviously it wasn't just about the date.

The only thing Draco could think was to check the time. With a good quarter-hour till classes began, he headed to Snape's office in hopes that the professor who could cure all Arabella-related ailments would be there preparing for lessons. He was.

"I take it your rendezvous with Miss Riddle in the garden went less than ideally," Snape drawled as he shuffled papers on his desk.

Draco plopped unceremoniously into one of the chairs by the desk.

"I don't understand her at all!" he threw his hands in the air, exasperated.

Snape looked at him from beneath his eyebrows, smirking knowingly. "What happened?"

Draco gave Snape the gist of the conversation that had occurred. As he came to Arabella's final statement, Snape's eyes widened. Draco watched as Snape pulled out a piece of parchment, scribbled a note and sent it by owl to an unknown recipient.

"That should solve that," Snape said, folding his hands on his desk and peering at Draco emotionlessly.

Draco raised his eyebrows, "Care to explain this one?"  
>"I'm actually surprised we all overlooked it," Snape leaned back into his chair. "Miss Riddle has never received guardian permission to go to Hogsmeade."<p>

Draco gasped, "_She's never been to Hogsmeade_?"

Snape simply shook his head.

"_That's_ what she meant," Draco flung his hands in the air again, collapsing back in his chair thinking of her comment about not being able to go.

"So, really, use some tact Draco. It'll be her first time out of the castle and she can't even go with her friends."

Draco nodded numbly, no longer really looking forward to a date with a girl who would no doubt sulk the entire time.

When the Hogsmeade day did actually arrive, Draco found Arabella waiting in the main courtyard. She was wearing clothes Narcissa had bought for her at the end of the summer specifically for days like this. Draco hadn't seen her wear anything but the school uniform or overtly muggle, rather tattered and worn looking clothes, so this seemed legitimately promising to him. When he approached she stood from her perch on the stone containment wall nearby.

"Hello, Arabella," Draco greeted her, swallowing the _I didn't think you'd actually show up_ that flashed through his mind just before.

"Malfoy," she acknowledged his presence. And then over his shoulder she nodded and greeted Zabini, Nott, Crabbe and Goyle. Draco had nearly forgotten they had followed him.

"It's Draco," he reminded her gently.

"It's Bella," she replied, an innocent smile gracing her features that failed to hide the cheek behind her comment.

Draco wished he could smile as his heart beat louder in his chest at her cheek.

"Shall we?" he gestured to the path leading away from the castle and towards Hogsmeade.

"I'm actually meeting Harry here," she protested. "I figured you wouldn't care if we just met up for coffee or something in Hogsmeade later."

Draco's inherent frown deepened. Arabella must have noticed since she continued:

"I mean, you don't really want to hang out with me either, so I figured we didn't need to go through the charade of a date just to please our parents."

Draco pursed his lips and took a deep breath, "Actually that's not how it works."

Arabella let out a puff of air, as if to laugh and raised her eyebrows at him, "Oh really?"

"Yes, really," Draco said with all seriousness. Arabella's bravado faded quickly. "Let's go."

"Um...no," Arabella replied, feigning thinking about it.

"Don't be difficult, Arabella."

"I'm not. But you are."

"Come on," he said grabbing her arm and leading her toward the Auror checkpoint that would search them before they left the grounds. She stood her ground, surprisingly strong, and he was instantly reminded of her Quidditch skills as he was forced to spin around to face her again.

"Arabella..." he growled. How little he knew how common that phrase would become over the next few years. She had planted herself so severely that there was no moving her without force.

Draco looked over her shoulder at Blaise and Nott, who nodded in understanding. They took their places on either side of her and began to pull her forward.

"So sorry, Bella," Zabini said cheekily, "But duty calls..."

She protested, digging her heels in.

"Stop! What are you doing?" they began to drag her away from the courtyard. They finally lifted her each, one boy taking an arm each in their two so her feet were no longer touching the ground.

"Put me down!"

None of the boys responded.

"Oy! Malfoy! What are you doing?" Draco heard from behind them. Weasley, Potter and Granger were making their way towards the group.

"Put Bella down!" Potter called, approaching quickly, ever the gallant white knight.

"Really, Malfoy! A prefect!" Granger exclaimed in all her bushy-haired glory.

Draco rolled his eyes at all of them, not really in the mood to deal with the whole cohort.

Blaise and Theo were still awkwardly holding Bella up in the air, and she kicked her feet as they dangled.

"Put me down!" she said indignantly. Draco, who could see her face and her feet dangling all in one view nearly laughed at how like an adorable three year old she appeared in that moment.

Just when he thought Blaise and Theo were going to fold and place her feet on the ground, another busybody involved herself in the fray.

"_Hem. Hem._ What precisely is going on here?"

Draco saw Arabella throw her head back in despair at the voice—that cough they had mocked together in the Manor—and Draco smiled as he saw Umbridge behind them all. He stepped forward to speak before Granger or Potter took their chances.

"We were just stealing Arabella away for a day of fun in Hogsmeade since she's never been before and just received permission from Father," Draco said sweetly to Umbridge. Theo and Blaise placed her gently on the ground and they all turned to face their professor as Draco continued: "I've been so looking forward to treating her to some Butterbeer and Salt Water Taffy."

"How delightful!" Umbridge nearly squealed with delight at the idea. "And Mr. Potter, what were you doing here?"

"Trying to rescue Bella from being kidnapped by Malfoy and his thugs! She made plans with us to go to Hogsmeade, not with them! Malfoy is lying."

"Now, now," Umbridge said, "I realize Miss Riddle is likely a popular companion for adventures such as these, but I'm sure she doesn't need rescuing from the likes of Mr. Malfoy. You must be mistaken Mr. Potter. Perhaps you can take Arabella to Hogsmeade the next weekend. Now let them have their date!"

Draco beamed with triumph and thanked Professor Umbridge and bid her good day. She had the Gryffindors head down the path toward the Auror check first so as to get them away and out of earshot. Potter gave Draco a look of such disdain that he took on the appearance of someone who had eaten a Dungbomb. Once they were through the checkpoint, Draco turned to Arabella.

"Alright boys," Draco indicated Blaise and Theo should lift her again so she couldn't escape.

"Fine! Fine!" she threw her hands in the air. "You win! I'll go to Hogsmeade with you—no dragging, no carrying!"

Draco smirked again. He was on a roll. He gave one more curt nod to the boys. Blaise and Nott led the way down the path and Crabbe and Goyle hung back. They would assume a discrete escort for the couple, but remain plenty out of earshot to give them privacy. Draco held out his hand to her, which she looked at as if it were a tentacle.

"Come now, Arabella. We're on a date, now."

She hung her head in dismay, "You really are going to milk this for all it's worth."

"Oh definitely," his lip curled in pleasure.

She bit her lip as if thinking how to get out of holding hands. "Don't people save hand-holding for the fourth or fifth date?"

Draco gave her a look of disbelief, "When was the last time you went on a date?"

"Never."

Draco refrained from laughing—just barely—but swallowing his pride and trying to be compassionate.

She blushed furiously, obviously uncomfortable with her ignorance and naiveté.

"You're going to tell my father everything aren't you?"

"That depends..." Draco said in a vague threat.

"Fine," she nervously brushed a piece of hair that wasn't there behind her ear. "How about I take your arm?"

"Whatever would make you comfortable while showing off that you are mine today."

She shook her head and rolled her eyes in annoyance and timidly came to his side. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as he placed his hand into the pocket of his travel cloak to keep his arm bent for her. He led her down the path and through the security to the road leading to Hogsmeade.

Halfway there she cleared her throat, "How did you know about the Salt Water Taffy?" she asked quietly.

Draco smirked. Three for three. "I remember seeing Potter bring it back for you his first trip to Hogsmeade last semester. You like the Raspberry Cremes, don't you?"

"Yes," she said, her voice even more quiet and timid. It was if no one had ever noticed anything about her before.

"You've _got_ to try the raspberry crème chocolate truffles they make at Honeydukes too, then. You like dark chocolate?"

"I do."

"Then you'll _love_ these."

She smiled and her grip on his sleeve tightened slightly as the wind picked up.

They rounded a corner on their way from the sweet shop and the joke shop to lunch. Quite suddenly she was no longer by his side and she turned back to see her planted quite firmly in the dirt once again. Draco whistled twice to indicate Blaise and Theo should hold up.

"What's wrong?"

"No."

"No what?" Draco was so confused.

Arabella looked at her Mary Janes, which were covered in mud splatters still from her earlier refusal to budge. She mumbled something incoherent.

"Pardon?"

"I'm _not_ going to Madame Puddifoots with you," Arabella said firmly. "I may be inexperienced but I'm not _that_ naïve. Do remember that the two biggest gossips in the school share a room and washroom with me."

Draco really _did_ laugh this time. He let out a good belly-laugh like he'd not let out for quite some time. When he looked back to Arabella, he saw the embarrassment and shame on her face and he quieted instantly. She had obviously misunderstood his mirth. He quickly backtracked, wanting to make it clear that he wasn't taking her there because she wasn't special but rather because she _was—_and he knew her better than that.

"Of course I'm not taking you to Madame Puddifoots. It sounds miserable to me, and I know you would hate me for it. There's a nice sandwich shop down the street that makes really amazing soups from scratch and has an entire wall devoted to tea."

Her eyes widened, her cheeks going from the red embarrassment to pale shock.

"What's wrong? Did I say something?" Draco asked.

"No, no," she shook her head, taking his arm again, less reluctantly than before. "I just don't understand how you know and why you care."

Draco knew what she was referring to. The truth was that he had watched her. He had a pretty good idea of what she liked to eat: she lived for soups and stews in the fall and winter, salads and sandwiches in the warmer months and always, _always _a cup of tea. Draco knew what kind of jewelry she liked—at least what she wore. He took note of her favorite study spots, her preferences in colors, and her strange idiosyncrasies. He'd carefully observed how she spent the money his father had given her over the summer—money she had never had in her life. Draco found delight in learning her ticks, and imagined he would find even more pleasure in finding ways to surprise her. _Was that weird? _he wondered. _Or is that just love?_ And he stiffened at the thought. Could he already be in love? No, surely he was just taking his assignment from the Dark Lord seriously and the pleasure he derived from her happiness was just an indication that he was attracted to her, wanted her to be happy and that their marriage would be a success—if only he could make her want it too.

Sunday morning dawned cloudy and rainy. The Slytherin Quidditch team was supposed to have the Quidditch Pitch that morning, but he doubted they'd get any training in. He turned over and punched his pillow into a better shape, closing his eyes to get some more sleep.

It didn't come.

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, contemplating the day ahead and reflecting on the previous day's events. He and Arabella had actually gotten along. Lunch at the sandwich shop had gone surprisingly well. They had even laughed and joked a little. When they returned to the castle, a bag of salt water taffy, a small box of raspberry crème truffles, a large tin of lavender Earl Grey tea, and a new scarf that would match her winter coat perfectly—all for Arabella in hand, they had already agreed to meet back in the library to study together after taking a quarter of an hour to change. They studied mostly in silence together. Every so often, one of them would ask the other a question. They would seek the correct answer together and both come out more knowledgeable—and more respectful toward the other—in the process. They were a good match intellectually, and that mattered to Draco more than he thought it would. He couldn't imagine being married to someone who didn't like to learn and who couldn't grasp the difficult magical concepts he loved to study and talk about most.

_Oh Merlin_, Draco said, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes, _Oh bloody Merlin, I'm really falling for her._

Draco flung his bed clothes away and quickly changed, focusing only on the task at hand so as not to give himself too much time to think. Even if they couldn't fly for practice, he could still get a good workout in in the rain. In no time, his running shoes were laced and his rain slicker was donned. Once outside, he jogged lightly to the Quidditch pitch, thinking he would run for a little bit around the arena. When he arrived, he was a little dismayed to see someone already making laps around the inside grass of the pitch. Through the pouring rain he couldn't make out much but the red and gold Gryffindor colors. He groaned. Just his luck. After the figure had made his way around and was moving toward Draco, Draco noticed him slow up to greet him. That's when he realized it wasn't a "him" Gryffindor player. It was a her.

"Fancy seeing you here."

"Long time no see."

"Care for a run?"

Arabella floundered, "I—I'm sure you don't want to—the thing is—you won't—" she sighed heavily, "I run really slowly."

Draco smiled lightly, but was laughing inside at her honesty.

"But I'm planning on doing Fartlek today," she continued. "And you're welcome to join me."

Fartlek—the cruelest of the cruel workouts that Quidditch captains put their teams through—especially cruel since the sport involved no running.

"I'm game," Draco said, "We'll keep each other honest, eh?"

"You bet. Warm up?" she said, picking up a jog. Draco nodded and fell into step beside her.

"So what's got you out here in the rain?" Draco asked between steps.

Arabella just shrugged, "What about you?"

"Needed some time to think."

"You run when you need to think?" Arabella asked, sounding genuinely intrigued.

"Yes. Don't you?"

"No. I run when I'm angry."

"Are you angry right now?" Draco asked warily.

Arabella pursed her lips, as if thinking about the best way to answer that question.

"Harry and I are fighting again."

"So soon after you made up?"

"Yes," she chuckled derisively. "We sound like one of those awful on-again-off-again couples, don't we? And we're not even dating!"

Draco raised his eyebrows but continued running.

"He's angry about the Hogsmeade date nonsense," she admitted.

"Then he should be mad at me, not you."

Arabella looked at him from the corner of her eye, but didn't respond.

"Ready?" she asked.

"How far?"  
>"I can only handle 1.5 kilometers hard speed before I'm begging for the five minutes of recovery time."<p>

"Sounds good," Draco took off, trying to set a decent pace that wouldn't leave Arabella in the dust.

When the two had finished their session—in which they only made it through the rotation once before wanting to pass out—they were soaked through from the rain. Arabella's wet hair was falling out of its bun, and strands of hair were stuck to Draco's face. They limped their way to their respective locker rooms to shower quickly and dry off before heading to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"We should do this again some time," Draco commented, hoping it sounded off-handed.

Arabella snorted, "Yeah, I'm sure our team captains would really appreciate that."

Draco rolled his eyes, "It's not like we're sharing team secrets, we're just getting in shape."

"I'm not sure they'd see it that way."

They'd arrived at the Great Hall and Arabella quickly spotted Granger.

"I'll see you later, then," Draco called after her as she made her way to the Gryffindor table. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled over to where Blaise and Theo were sitting.

"Where've you been?" Blaise asked as Draco poured a cup of coffee.

"You wouldn't believe me," Draco said, taking a sip of the liquid.

"Oh?" Blaise leaned over and looked across the Great Hall. Draco followed his gaze, and found that Arabella was looking at them. She smiled, rolled her eyes and then turned back to Hermione, who was pouring over the Saturday Post.

_A/N: I'll keep the chapters coming as often as I can. I haven't forgotten about ASIG. I promise!_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. All rights to JK Rowling. Some of this chapter (with direct quotes from JK Rowling's words) was taken from scenes from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (US hardcover edition) pp 401-419_

**X. The Lioness**

October extinguished itself into a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly gray, the mountains around Hogwarts became snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so far that many students wore their thick protective dragon skin gloves in the corridors between lessons.

The morning of the match between Slytherin and Gryffindor dawned bright and cold. Draco was one of the first to awaken. He quietly changed and prepared for the day, making sure to clip the crown-shaped badge he had made onto his robes. He and Blaise had worked quite jokingly on the poem and song that went with it, employing an older student to cast the charm to duplicate the curious badges. Draco wanted to be sure to see Weasel's expression when he discovered them.

Draco went down to breakfast early, after sending a letter detailing his latest interactions with Arabella to his father, even though they would see each other after the match that very day. Draco and Arabella had, indeed, continued a weekly study session—finding a corner in the library or an empty classroom to quiz each other or work on essays. In the letter, Draco tried to make it sound like there was more romance than was actually occurring. In reality, Arabella was all business. He had, however, discovered her father-approved nickname during one of these study dates:

"Here's an empty classroom—we can work on memorizing the names of those moons in here," Draco had said, guiding Arabella into a room with a large chalkboard that was rarely used. With a wave of his wand, he had copied the section of the night's sky onto the chalkboard. He handed a piece of chalk to Arabella so that she could begin writing down the names of the stars and moons from memory. He looked at the labeled parchment in hand while she did so.

"Merlin, I can never remember the order of these moons," she came to Neptune. "I know there's Despina and Proteus and Triton, and those two that start with N that I can't ever remember..." she trailed off.

"Here, let me help," Draco said, standing from where had perched on an old desk.

"No, I can do it! I'll get it!" Arabella was stubborn.

Draco watched her struggle for a bit longer, "Ari, stop. Here," he took up another piece of chalk, "I always remember it this way: 'Narcissa thinks Draco gallantly launches potentially trite niceties.' He wrote the little pneumonic device on a distant corner of the same chalkboard."

"What?" Arabella looked at him as if he were mad.

Draco began to write the names of the moons beside the words of the device:

Narcissa: Naiad

Thinks: Thalassa

Draco: Despina

Gallantly: Glatea

Launches: Larissa

Potentially: Proteus

Trite: Triton

Niceties: Nereid

"Oooooo!" Arabella said as she realized. "Clever! I don't think I'll forget them now!"

"You just have to remember Narcissa starts with "N-a" like Naiad to differentiate it from Nereid," Draco pointed it out.

"Wow, this is great! Thank you, Draco!"

Draco nodded and returned to his perch, looking down at the parchment again. After a few moments, he realized he hadn't heard the chalk on the board again and looked up to discover Arabella was looking at him with a smirk.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Ari? _Really_?" she glared playfully. "Father approved or something?"

Draco slapped an arrogant smirk on his own face, "Actually it just slipped out, but I'll be sure to get it approved by Monday. That way we don't all have to say your mouthful of a bloody name."

"Hey," Arabella put her hands up in defense, "take up your complaints about my name with my father. I'll stand right there with you."

"So Ari it is, then," Draco said, smiling genuinely now.

"Bella," she insisted.

"So Ari it is, then," Draco said again, as if she hadn't spoken.

Needless to say, Draco was happy with this new name for her, though it seemed to bring her part-mirth, part-extreme annoyance.

When Draco arrived at the Great Hall it was fairly empty. He sat and enjoyed his breakfast in relative silence before his teammates arrived. He kept his eyes pealed—Arabella—now Ari—had walked in with Granger, decked out in crimson and gold. Her hair was tightly braided such that it would have given her a severe look if not for her rosy cheeks, vivid eyes and easy smile.

She sat and ate with Granger and Weaselette. He could feel her anxiety across the room as she continued to look up at the entrance, waiting for her other teammates. The Grat Hall was filling up fast when Weasley and Potter finally arrived. His fellow Slytherins, in their geen-and-silver scarves and hates, with crown-shaped badges, all waved emphatically with huge smiles and laughs at Weasley. Potter peered at the badges, but his eyesight was bad enough he probably couldn't make them out. He steered Weasley purposefully toward the Gryffindor table, where they were met with a rousing welcome. Arabella, seeing this exchange, sent a piercing stare Draco's way. He was about to meet it when she redirected her attention to Weasley and Potter, trying to raise Weasley's obviously failing morale with an artificially cheery smile.

Draco returned to the last cup of coffee he would allow himself before he needed to push the water. Montague was talking to each member of his team in turn, giving them each a specific last word of "wisdom"—if you could call it that—before they headed down to the pitch. Most of the team got up to leave with Montague, leaving Draco with Crabbe and Goyle to finish his water. As the Slytherin team left the hall, Draco noticed Arabella whisper something to Granger before standing as well. He caught her eye as she made her way out of the hall, but was taken aback when she didn't leave—instead making her way toward him. She tried to ignore the prying eyes and whispers that followed her in this action, but she was obviously aware of them. She squared her shoulders and lifted her eyes, continuing firmly on her intended path. When she reached Draco, she sat beside him, backwards on the bench so she didn't have to go through the trouble of tucking her legs under the table.

"What's this about?" she narrowed her eyes at the badge.

"Good morning to you to," he said, taking a swig of water.

She narrowed her eyes at him pointedly.

"Just a little fun," he smirked.

"I don't like it—"

"You don't have to—" he cut her off.

She huffed, "You are so infuriating sometimes! You're making it so difficult!"

"Making what so difficult?" he asked quietly.

"So difficult—" she cut herself off this time and sighed heavily, "Never mind."

"No, Ari..."

"_Never mind,_ Draco!" she whispered forcefully.

He nodded, but knew he wouldn't.

"Good luck today," she said after a deep sigh, putting out her hand for him to shake.

"And to you," he said, taking it. But instead of shaking it, he pulled her closer and placed a tender kiss on her cheek. "And be safe."

She blushed furiously, nodded and stood to leave, but didn't tell him off. He smirked in triumph.

The Slytherin team changed quickly, placed their badges securely on their uniforms and took to the pitch early, standing to wait for the Gryffindors who seemed to be taking their sweet time. Draco smirked when he saw a pale Weasley being led by both Ari and Potter, who were sharing a significant look. Draco felt his stomach flip—partially in jealousy at the thought of Ari linking arms with Weasley, even if he was being pathetic—and partially because she looked both beautiful and fierce in her Quidditch uniform.

Draco took his place to the side of Montague and in front of Crabbe and Goyle, who stood swinging their new Beaters' bats. When he caught Potter's eye, Draco smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.

"Captains shake hands," ordered Madame Hooch, as Johnson and Montague reach each other. It seemed Montague was trying to crush Johnson's fingers, though she did not wince, "Mount your brooms..."

Draco stole one last glance at Arabella, who was focused on the Quaffle that would be released on the whistle. When the whistle sounded, the balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Draco took to the sky, making a lap around the pitch, looking for the glint of gold. He saw Potter doing the same, and as he made his way back towards the Slytherin goal posts, he spotted his father in the crowd, seated with the professors—right between Snape and Umbridge.

"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me—"

"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall

"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest—and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's—ouch—been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe...Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and—nice Bludger there from George Weasley that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Bella, that's—what professor? -Ah yes, Arabella Riddle of Gryffindor—sorry about that—reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away—"

Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium, but Draco could still hear through the wind and the din of the crowd the words of the song he'd wrote.

"—dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger—close call, Alicia—and the crowd is loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

Draco smirked as the lyrics finally rang through when Lee paused to listen:

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_ He cannot block a single ring,_

_ That's why Slytherins all sing:_

_ Weasley is our King._

_ Weasley was born in a bin,_

_ He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_ Weasley will make sure we win,_

_ Weasley is our King._

"—and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted. "come on now, Angelina—looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat!—SHE SHOOTS – SHE—aaahh..."

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it zigzagging in between Alicia and Arabella; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Weasley—

_Weasley is our King,_

_ Weasley is our King,_

_ He always lets the Quaffle in,_

_ Weasley is our King._

Draco continued his search for the Snitch, smug in knowing Weasley would crumble with the pressure and embarrassment of the song.

"—and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead—"

A great swell of song rose form the Slytherin stands below:

_Weasley cannot save a thing,_

_ He cannot block a single ring..._

"—so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team—come on, Ron!"

Draco snorted forcefully at this compliment from Lee, and continued his search. The game continued in the same fashion, the song growing louder and louder to put Weasley ill at ease—and it worked. Draco took great relish in joining in the song as he passed Potter midway around the pitch going in opposite directions.

A good twenty minutes later, Arabella made the first score for Gryffindor, making the score forty-ten Slytherin. As Pucey neared the Gryffindor goal posts, and the song swelled, Draco finally caught sight of the tiny fluttering Golden Snitch, hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch. Unfortunately, so had Potter, as he was already diving towards the small flittering object. Draco was on Potter's left in a second, lying flat on his broom.

The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and scooted off toward the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Draco, who was nearer. Draco smirked as he reached out his hand, but somehow Potter's hand had grasped around the Snitch, and Draco's fingernails scrabbled the back of Potter's hand hopelessly. Potter pulled his broom upward, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval...

Something black and moving quickly zoomed past Draco's head, creating a tunnel of wind that lifted a tuft of hair, just before:

WHAM!

A Bludger hit Potter squarely in the small of the back and he flew forward off his broom. He was only five or so feet off the ground and appeared only slightly winded when Madam Hooch's shrill whistle could be heard over the uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering. Arabella arrived shortly followed by Johnson.

"Are you all right?" Johnson asked Potter as Arabella helped the Scarhead to his feet, brushing the grass off his back.

"'Course I am," said Potter grimly.

Draco turned to see Madam Hooch make her way toward Crabbe, who had been the one to whack the Bludger the moment he'd seen Potter catch the Snitch. Draco couldn't say he disapproved too much of Crabbe's behavior. Anything that put Potter in his place was enough for Draco. He snorted in derision as he landed behind Potter.

"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he said to Potter. "I've never seen a worse Keeper...but then he was _born in a bin_...Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

Potter didn't answer, but instead turned to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph. Draco managed to catch sight of the Weasel, who was making his way back toward the changing rooms alone.

"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Draco called, unable to resist the temptation to get the Gryffindors riled up.

"Malfoy, shut it!" Arabella hissed.

Draco continued, ignoring her: "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly—we wanted to sing about his mother, see—"

"Talk about sour grapes," said Johnson, casting Draco a disgusted look, which he returned in kind. But Draco could see Potter's gaze linger on him with hatred. He smirked as he felt the triumph near.

"—we couldn't fit in _useless loser_ either—for his father, you know—"

The Weasley twins had suddenly realized what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand they stiffened, looking around at Malfoy.

"Malfoy, don't push it," Arabella stepped forward, her eyes narrowed.

"Leave it," Draco heard Johnson say at once, taking one of the twin's arms. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little—"

"—but you like the Weasley's, don't you Potter?" Draco said sneering.

"—Draco Malfoy—" Arabella's gritted through her teeth in warning. "Don't you dare."

"Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasley's hovel smells okay—"

Potter grabbed hold of the other Weasley twin—must've been George—Draco couldn't keep them straight; meanwhile it was taking the combined efforts of the three girls to stop Fred leaping on Draco, who was now laughing openly. Potter and Arabella caught each other's eyes, and then Ari glanced away, probably looking for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.

"Or perhaps," said Draco, leering as he backed away...

… "that's right, Malfoy, walk away," Arabella said, her eyes flaming in anger.

"...you can remember what _your_ mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it—"

Draco wasn't aware that Potter had released the Weasley twin until he saw that both of them were sprinting towards him. And before he had time to turn and run or pull his own wand, he felt Potter's fist, with the Sntich still tightly clutch inside, sink into his stomach.

Girls' voices screamed, someone swore, a whistle blew, but Draco was already on the ground, clutching his stomach as Potter continued to go at him. He could just sense Arabella trying to pull Potter off of him when someone yelled "IMPEDIMENTA!"

"What do you think you're doing?" screamed Madam Hooch, and everyone sprang away. Madam Hooch began laying into the Weasley twins and Potter for fighting, but Draco's attention was diverted to his bleeding nose until he saw Arabella take a knee beside him.

"What in Merlin's name was _that_?" she hissed, pulling out her wand. "Here—" she stopped the bleeding, healed the broken nose and washed him up with three consecutive and elegantly cast spells.

"That was Potter attacking me," Draco said bitingly as he pushed himself up onto his elbows.

Ari rolled her eyes, "That's not what I was referring to."

Briefly her attention was stolen away as professors and other spectators were making their way from the stands. She cast one last look over her shoulder at the Gryffindor boys who had been sent to McGonagall's office,standing as she did so. She crossed her arms in front of her, turning back to Draco and tapping her foot irritably.

"Help me up?" he gave her his most disarming grin and reached out a hand. Ever immune to his charm, Ari simply raised her eyebrows at him and frowned, more like a mother than a peer.

"Or not..." he mumbled resentfully, struggling to stand on his own. He brushed some dirt and grass off his robes, and then ran his fingers through his hair to ensure it wasn't too tousled.

With no warning, Ari was upon him, her sharp pointer finger jabbed at his upper chest painfully.

"Hey—!" he exclaimed.

"How dare you?" she hissed. She poked him again, he took a few steps backward in defense, recalling where his wand was just in case, even though she made no move to draw her own.

"How _dare_ you write a song to insult a fellow classmate? How _dare _you insult his parents?" she continued to poke him with each rhetorical question. "How _dare _you _insinuate_ that _Muggles_ smell or that the Weasleys or the Potters do, too?"

"Well, Arabella," he hissed back, standing his ground with the last poke, so as she advanced they were almost nose to nose, "I _dare_ because I am _Pureblood_."

Her eyes flashed dangerously, and for a moment Draco saw her rage, pure and simple. He was reminded of who her father was and wondered for just an instant whether or not she was capable of...surely not he scolded himself internally. She wouldn't hurt a spider if it could be saved.

"A _Pureblood_," she spat, tauntingly. "And in your _Pureblood superiority_, did you not once contemplate how _I_, your future _wife_, would feel about you insinuating that I smell badly?"

"I never insinuated anything about you—" Draco said, meeting her anger now at her accusation, quietly cheering at her admittance that she would be his wife—something she'd been loathe to mention prior.

"Oh? Because _I_ wasn't raised in a Muggle orphanage?" she poked him again. He took a step back and she advanced, "And _I_ didn't spend the past few holidays with the Grangers or Weasleys, did I?"

Draco suddenly felt his stomach drop and a fine glean of sweat break out above his brow.

"So I repeat," she gritted through clenched teeth, "_How dare you?_" and with that she planted two hands on his chest and pushed him back to the ground with more force than he'd thought she'd had in her.

"_Arabella Rose Riddle!_" came a stern voice full of reproach.

Draco glanced up to see his father and Professor Snape join them.

"What is the meaning of this?" his father motioned to the scene before him.

"He deserved it," was all Arabella could say for herself. "And I wouldn't mind never seeing him again."

With that, she turned on her heel to go, picking up her broom as she made her way toward the locker rooms. And frankly, given the circumstances, Draco couldn't disagree with her. If it had been anyone else, Draco would've been cursed to oblivion and back. But Arabella could cut much deeper with her words and her eyes than with her wand. Draco scurried to his feet before his father had a chance to send him a glance of disdain.

"_Arabella Rose you will return this instant."_

Much to Draco's surprise, Arabella halted, turned slowly and began her return, looking very much as if she were doing so against her own will.

"I will ask only once more, what is the meaning of this?" Lucius said calmly but sternly. This was nothing like the disciplinary actions of Draco's youth, and he squinted suspiciously at his father, not quite recognizing him for his lack of temper.

"Your son thought it would be _cute_ to insult those who were raised by Muggles and who were welcomed into the homes of the Weasleys during holidays for lack of another place to go," Arabella glared at Draco while she said this, her voice filled with an unfamiliar venom that stang Draco and made his blood burn uncomfortably.

Lucius raised his eyebrows, turning to his son, "Is this true, Draco?"

Draco cleared his throat, trying to form a coherent sentence in his head. His father thought stuttering despicable.

"No sir," Draco said and Arabella opened her mouth to protest, only cut off by a hand raised by Lucius Malfoy to stop her interruption. "I did not think it would be _cute_. I only intended to insult Weasley and later, Potter. I merely wanted to intimidate Weasley and Potter to throw them off their game."

"This was _after _we won! It had nothing to do with—"

"_That is quite enough Arabella Rose Riddle_" hissed Lucius. "It is not becoming of a young witch to interrupt."

Draco saw Arabella purse her lips, roll her eyes and barely refrain from stomping her foot in childish indignation.

Lucius gave a pointed look to Draco, who turned to Arabella, trying to ignore his attraction to her with her cheeks, rosy with the heat of exercise and anger, and her hair, falling in wisps from her french braid to fall and frame her face in perfect waves.

"I apologize, Arabella. I had no intention of insulting you. I wasn't thinking."

"No. You weren't," came her tart reply.

Lucius cleared his throat.

She sighed heavily, "You're forgiven, Malfoy."

He cleared it even louder.

"_Draco._ You are forgiven, _Draco,_" she corrected.

Very well, you two can kiss and make up.

Arabella looked up at her guardian appalled, and Draco hid his grin at her reaction by locating his broom.

"Now, Miss Riddle," Lucius returned to her formal title now that he wasn't acting as a disciplinarian father, "why don't you go clean up. We'll meet you for lunch in the entrance hall in half an hour."

"Yes, sir," she said without question, taking her leave. As she lifted her broom to carry beside her, trudging toward the showers, Draco could have sworn he heard her mumble, "Kiss and make up. Huh. Over my dead body."

Draco let himself chuckle as he bent for his broom, but wiped his face clean of emotion by the time he rose to meet the gazes of Snape and Lucius. The two men looked at Draco for a moment. Draco looked back. There was silence for a long moment.

"I received your correspondence this morning, Draco," Lucius spoke first.

"Yes, sir?"

"You made it sound like Arabella was coming along in her behavior."

"She was."

"I didn't look like it," came the curt and cutting reply.

"I have a...talent...of provoking her, sir," Draco said snidely.

Draco caught the twitch of Snape's lips over his father's shoulder. His professor was obviously holding back a smirk.

"You are getting too old for these childish games, Draco," Lucius said waving his arm around in the air. "Songs and screaming insults will need to be left behind in...your future service."

"Yes, sir," Draco simply nodded, understanding his father's allusion to the Dark Lord's Death Eaters.

"You should begin perfecting silent curses, Draco. Professor Snape has agreed to help you. Veiled insults and unseen curses are all you will further employ in these duels with Potter."

"Yes, sir."

"It's time for you to _grow up_, Draco," Lucius spat.

"Understood, sir."

Lucius sighed and shifted his hair so it was flowing down his back instead of over his shoulders. Draco stepped into stride with the two older men as they made their way from the Pitch.

"Shower quickly, Draco. And dress for lunch."

Draco took this dismissal with relief. He was not keen for another lecture.

"And don't think that you don't have a lot of work to do with Arabella," his father called after him, almost tauntingly. Draco stopped in his tracks, wanting to hiss under his breath before lifting his broom once more and descending into the darkness of the locker room.

_AN: Please please please review!_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Diclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter.

_AN: This chapter is 99% plotless fluff. Hope you enjoy._

XXI. Christmas at the Malfoys

As it turned out, Draco had no problem adhering to his father's demands that he keep Arabella in line during the train ride back to London for the Christmas holidays. But after the first ten minutes, and contrary to popular belief, he would have given anything for that not to be the case. He would rather have been in trouble with his father for "letting" Ari spend the ride with the rest of the Golden Quartet (as if Draco really had control over her and "let" her do anything). He would rather have fought with her about how she couldn't do what she wanted. He would rather have eaten a box of bogey flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans than be sitting beside Arabella as she was that gray morning.

Draco had packed the night before, eager to get home and away from school, where the pressures of homework, Quidditch practice, extra lessons with Snape, and Prefect responsibilities were threatening to suffocate him. He rose early for breakfast, even though the train would not depart until 11 o'clock. He assured himself he'd probably be the only one down at the Great Hall when the doors opened for breakfast that morning, but was surprised to nearly collide with the female half of the Golden Quartet as they entered the Entrance Hall simultaneously. The girls were linked arm in arm, whispering quietly under their breaths, both looking unrested and red-eyed. They didn't even notice Draco until they found him to be blocking their path to their coveted caffeinated beverages.

"Good morning," Ari broke the silence, her voice husky—like she'd just woken up or hadn't slept at all.

Draco nodded his head in greeting, "You received your father's letter?" he asked, indicating her instructions for the trip to London, which no doubt contained a threat of some sort should she not do as she's told.

"Yes, thank you," her voice was curt and cold, and she made to side step him.

He grabbed her free arm briefly, trying to guide her away from Granger for a moment.

"Have you been crying?" he asked quietly, letting his concern add an edge to his voice.

Arabella narrowed her eyes at him, as if in anger, searching his face, "What are you playing at?"

Draco had no idea what Arabella was indicating, and his face must have looked as puzzled as he felt because she searched his face again, and then softened when she found no deceit. She huffed slightly, as if his ignorance had provided her with a wealth of information.

"I'll see you at the station, Malfoy," she said, before turning back to Granger and entering the Hall for breakfast.

Draco followed them in, taking his usual seat at the Slytherin table so he could spy on them. Unfortunately, contrary to the norm, the two girls sat side by side with their backs to the Slytherin table. Arabella nearly always sat facing him across the Great Hall, and if she were alone with Granger they always sat across from each other. They very obviously did not want to be interrupted. Strangely enough, the girls ate quickly and left the Great Hall before any others Gryffin-dorks joined them. Yet, he didn't think much of the lack of Potter or any of the Weasley children since it was a travel day and most students slept until the last possible moment they needed to board the train. Draco finished a last cup of coffee slowly, enjoying the tranquility of the Great Hall before departing.

Draco made the journey down to Hogsmeade Station with the other Slytherin boys in his year. They were all light-hearted and dressed for travel rather than in their Hogwarts robes. Pansy lurked nearby with some of the other girls, which Draco only noticed because her cackle was so high pitched and annoying.

"Got any big plans for the holiday, Draco?" Blaise asked, pulling Draco from his irritated reverie, which might have included thoughts of strangling Pansy.

"Not that I know of," Draco shook his head, "But I have a feeling Mother will be pulling out all the stops for Arabella."

"Ah yes, the first Christmas at the Malfoys?" Theo added.

"Yeah, you'll be sure to show her a _real_ Pureblood Christmas, eh?"

"Yes," Draco said, though his voice felt disembodied as he pictured the days to come, hoping for joy and closeness with Ari, "if she'll let us."

When they arrived on the platform, Arabella was already waiting. Dressed in dark green robes she looked fashionable, but uncomfortable. The pencil skirt and matching coat were obviously informal robes his mother had picked for her. She had french braided her long hair and pulled the tail into a bun at the nape of her neck. Rather than slinging it across her shoulder as she usually did, Ari had her book bag hanging from her hands in front of her as she awaited them.

"Good morning," Draco said with a smile, motioning to take her satchel from her. For the first time, she let him. "I'm surprised to see you here."

"I was instructed to wait here for you," she said tightly, as if trying to justify her behavior.

"Yes, but you don't usually follow instructions," Draco commented, as the other boys began to board the train and find a compartment. "No Potty or Weasel to steal you away and defend your honor?"

She narrowed her eyes at him again, as if thinking his comment out of place, "No," she said slowly, and then sighed, "Besides, I don't want a fight over Christmas."

"So you're behaving today?" it was more of a statement than a question.

"At least for now," she admitted, without the usual jovial glint in her eye.

Draco swallowed a snide comment and motioned toward the train, feeling even more puzzled about Arabella than usual..._Was that even possible?_

They took over an entire compartment to themselves—all of the Slytherin 5th years and Arabella. She took a seat quietly, sitting abnormally still and straight, staring out the window in front of her. Draco stashed her satchel with his briefcase in one of the overhead compartments, taking the seat next to her. For the next fifteen minutes and the first ten minutes of the train ride, Draco listened as his friends talked and joked, contributing a snide comment every so often. But Arabella remained completely motionless. Finally, as if shaken from her stupor by some unknown source, she began to shed her tightly buttoned coat, revealing a ruffled, cream colored blouse underneath. Draco helped her shrug out of the coat and stood to hang it for her. She merely sent him a grateful smile before returning to stare out the window. This is when Draco began wishing for those bogey flavored beans.

Blaise motioned to him from across the compartment, mouthing the words _What's up with her?_ Draco shrugged in response. Blaise made his way over to them and sat across from Arabella.

"Are you looking forward to Christmas at the Malfoys, Bella?" Blaise attempted to engage her, "You're in for a real treat—Narcissa pulls out all the stops!"

"I'm sure it will be lovely," Arabella responded, tearing here eyes away from the window to look at Blaise with a soft smile and an even tone.

Blaise gave Draco a pointed look of worry and confusion. All Draco could do was return it. One conversation about Quidditch later, the trolley arrived with treats and Blaise made his way back to his original seat to obtain some money from his cloak.

"What would you like from the trolley, Ari?" Draco asked softly, afraid that her dead look would soon morph into and angry outburst if he said something wrong.

"Nothing, thank you, Draco."

He couldn't even take delight in the use of his first name, he was too preoccupied with her peculiar behavior. He bought one of everything on the cart for her, just in case she got hungry later, but she refused to touch the food. The entire journey continued like this. When they arrived in London, he helped her back into her coat and carried her satchel as they made their way to his parents. He even grabbed her hand to keep from losing her in the crowd as they weaved their way to the opposite end of the platform. She dutifully held his, following him almost the entire way, until they collided with Granger and Longbottom. With the hope that she would cheer up a little, he allowed them a moment to say goodbye.

"Happy Christmas, Bells," Longbottom said, and to Draco's surprise they hugged briefly.

"Take care, Neville," she said. "Say hello to your family. Happy Christmas and New Year!"

A teary exchange occurred between Granger and Ari next.

"I'll send you news as soon as I know," he overheard Granger say under her breath.

"Send my love, give everyone hugs from me—tell them," Arabella choked up, and Granger hugged her again whispering comforting words to her, "tell them I'm sorry I can't be there to help."

"Of course. Don't worry, we understand. Cheer up and have a lovely holiday," Granger sniffed. "I'll be in touch."

"Thank you," they hugged again—as if three times weren't enough—and parted.

When Arabella turned back to Draco her face was only a little red with tears. She took a moment to breathe and wipe the tears away, before taking his hand again. She looked too miserable to be surprised at Draco's decision to allow them a goodbye, and a teary one at that, with not even one snide comment or sneer. And after acknowledging the strength it must have taken her to willingly cry in front of him, he decided not to ask where Potty and Weasel were.

They were welcomed warmly by Draco's parents, who didn't bother to notice Arabella looked half-dead with exhaustion and depression. Draco began to dread a repeat of the summer when Arabella wouldn't eat or sleep, and yet he had no idea what could be causing her reaction. Lucius clapped his son on the back, obviously pleased that Arabella was behaving herself. Oh, how mistaken Lucius was—it was _not_ a good thing for Draco that she responded with due diligence. They arrived at the Manor with little incident. As they shed their coats in the entrance hall, Arabella turned to Lucius.

"I'd like to speak to my father," she said.

"He thought you'd might," came Lucius' curt reply. "He's a very busy man..."

"I did as I was told. I behaved myself on the train ride here—just ask Draco. I deserve an audience," she returned, her hands curling into fists.

So _that_ was the reason for Arabella's "good behavior" on the train.

To Draco's surprise, Lucius smirked and motioned toward the ballroom, "He's waiting for you."

And that's about when Draco starting feeling _completely_ out of the loop.

Without hesitation (and with a lot more courage than Draco would have expected from even a member of the Golden Quartet) Arabella strode into the ballroom, the heels of her ballet flats clicking lightly on the floor. His father motioned Draco to join and they left Narcissa behind to inspect the dinner arrangements.

"Ah, welcome home, little one," came the chilling voice Draco hadn't missed while away at school. He watched as the Dark Lord stood from what Draco, for lack of a better word, would call a _throne_ and stepped down from the dias to greet his daughter. He took her head in his long lanky hands and kissed the top of her head. "I trust that your studies are proceeding as expected?"

"Yes, Father, my marks are some of the highest in the class," Arabella said tartly.

The Dark Lord's face lifted in what Draco would guess was an expression of amusement, "Not _the_ highest?" he turned to take his seat again.

"Draco has the highest mark in Defense Against the Dark Arts right now," was all she supplied as a reason.

Draco nearly snorted. This was only because Umbridge adored him. Usually Potter had the highest mark in that class. Granger had the highest grade in almost all of their classes. As usual. But Arabella always had the highest mark in Potions.

"And you are looking forward to the holiday?" the Dark Lord asked. Was he really making small talk? Draco had never taken him for a small talk sort of...being...man, person thing.

"I would be looking forward to it more if Arthur Weasley weren't bleeding out at St. Mungo's right now," she said, cutting right to the chase.

The puzzle pieces of the last ten hours suddenly fell distinctly into place. Potter and all of the red heads were missing. Arabella's willingness to ride with them on the train. Her dead look. Her goodbye with Granger. All of it.

"Oh? An unfortunate accident," the Dark Lord tsk-tsked, drawing the pads of his fingers together in front of him.

"An unprovoked _attack_," Arabella corrected with more gall.

"Yes, well it seems Mr. Weasley was in the wrong place at the wrong time," the Dark Lord said nonchalantly, looking down at his pet snake, Nagini, as she came to curl around the legs of his chair.

"Well luckily, _Harry Potter_ came to the rescue, _again._"

The Dark Lord hissed something angrily, which Draco couldn't understand. Arabella hissed back with just as much force, gesturing to Nagini angrily.

Draco sucked in a shallow breath, fearing the worst would result from Arabella goading her father. Draco stole a glance up to the throne, where the red eyes of the Dark Lord were glaring down at his daughter as he stood to approach her. Her fists were balled at her sides, but she stood straight with her chin up in proud defiance. As he hissed, the Dark Lord came to tower over his daughter in intimidation. She stood her ground. After he finished speaking, there was a moment of silence. Draco could swear he saw Arabella trembling—whether from fear or anger he didn't know. The Dark Lord bellowed at her again in Parseltongue before she responded quickly and succinctly and she retreated. When his back had turned for a moment, Arabella turned on her heel and made for the doors to the ballroom for a quick exit.

"Stop!" came the booming voice and Arabella stopped dead in her tracks, as if she had come to the edge of a cliff and would teeter over. When she finally regained her balance she could step backwards but not forwards. Draco saw her face flush with embarrassment and anger as she ground her teeth trying to move forward as if against a dead weight.

"Return," the Dark Lord said next, his voice returning to it's natural volume and now completely calm, smooth as silk.

Arabella turned on her heel again and slowly made her way back to where her father stood in a manner reminiscent of her return to Lucius after the Quidditch match. If Draco had to guess, she wasn't moving of her own volition, but her movements were natural, neither too jerky nor overly poised. She finally came to rest at her father's feet. Her head down, her fists still balled with emotion. The Dark Lord took one long, spindly finger and lifted her chin to face him. She looked away. Draco felt the repulsion Arabella didn't show as dread instilled itself in the center of his stomach.

"Look at me. _Look_ at me, Arabella. You will not disrespect me. You will not leave until dismissed. I do not answer to you, Arabella Rose. You answer to me."

Every word was cut and clear.

"Is that understood?"

She attempted to nod.

"Is that understood?" he asked, his voice slightly louder and harsher.

"Yes. Sir," she ground out between her teeth.

He released her and her gaze returned to the floor beside her. The Dark Lord side stepped his daughter and addressed the other two men present. "Very well. Lucius, a word? Draco and Arabella, you are dismissed."

Arabella was moping. It was Christmastime and all she did was lounge about with books and blankets. It was driving Draco crazy. She barely talked, and when she did it was overly polite and affected. He was debating whether or not to ask Mother if she could spend the last part of the holidays with the Weasleys. Just to get the dark raincloud of misery out of the house so he could enjoy himself again.

Narcissa must have been aware of this, since a few days before Christmas they were instructed to dress for visitors at the breakfast table. Midmorning the doorbell rang to admit four very familiar faces: Crabbe, Goyle, Nott and Zabini. A huge grin found it's way stretching across Draco's face at the sight of his classmates. Arabella hadn't bothered to rise from her reading spot.

"Merry Christmas, mate," Blaise said. "Mind inviting us in? It's a tad bit chilly."

Draco obliged, and the boys clamored into the Entrance Hall.

"How's your break going?" Theo asked when they'd shed their scarves and hats.

Draco groaned and rolled his eyes.

"That good, huh?" Blaise said snidely and Draco sent him a knowing glance.

"I take it you already knew, and Mother was just sending for reinforcements?" Draco said, knowing his mother all too well.

"Oh, is that what this is?" Blaise looked at the other boys. "An intervention?" and then turning back to Draco, "I thought we'd just been invited for a nice afternoon at a friend's house. If you think I'm doing work, you'll have to pay my hourly rate."

Draco chuckled. Blaise's sarcasm could nearly always cheer him up.

"And what is that?"

"Depends on what you need..." Blaise wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Well, then, what do you suggest?" Draco asked.

"Why don't we do what we always do a couple of days before Christmas?" Crabbe supplied dully.

The other boys stared at him like he was crazy. He shrugged.

"No, wait, he may have something there," Blaise pointed out. "Why not?"

"Would Arabella be game?" Theo asked Draco.

"How should I know?"

"Do girls even like snow?" Goyle asked.

"Or the cold?"

"Come _on_," Blaise interrupted. "It's _Bella_. She's a Chaser. She can _throw a ball _just fine."

Everyone sort of mumbled, shrugged and nodded.

"It'll be getting her to agree to joining that's the hardest," Blaise admitted.

"Who says she has to agree to it?" Theo asked slowly, as if a fabulous idea was just occurring to him.

Draco looked at him and smirked.

They entered the parlor where Arabella was reading in the window seat curled up with a knit blanket with all the stealth four teenage boys could muster. They stood in a slight curve, with Crabbe and Goyle on the ends and Draco in the middle, effectively blocking any exit she might try to make from her location. They all had their winter coats, gloves, hats and scarves on, making them look more strange than intimidating. Draco coughed lightly to draw her attention away from the book. She finished a sentence, lifting her head slowly and then her eyes to take in the sight of the boys before her, all standing with innocent looks on their faces.

"Hello Blaise, Theo, Vincent, Gregory..." she greeted them all politely. Her facial expression turned suspicious as she took in their clever formation. "How are you all doing today?"

"We hear you've been moping," Blaise cut to the chase.

"Moping? I'm not moping!" she was defensive right away.

"We're here to fix your bad mood," Theo ignored her comment.

"I'm not in a bad mood," she laughed as if it would help to make her point. Draco stared her down with a glance that just begged for her to try and argue with him. "Fine. And what pray tell is going to fix the bad mood you claim I'm in?"

"You're going to be let in on a little Christmas tradition," Blaise said excitedly.

"Uh huh..." she said, waiting for him to elaborate.

"Will you come willingly?" he asked.

She gave them all a puzzled look. "That depends on what this tradition entails."

"Oh no, no, no," Draco wagged his finger at her. "It's a surprise. And, you don't have a choice here. You're coming...willingly or not."

She rolled her eyes at them, "If you're not going to tell me what it is, I'm not going to come. What if it's something I'll hate?"

"Yeah, we debated that," Blaise said thoughtfully, "but then we decided we don't really care."

The boys laughed and Ari huffed in irritation.

"Alright men," Theo puffed himself up and artificially deepened his voice, "looks like she's puttin' up a fight."

"Plan B?" Crabbe grunted from Draco's left.

"Plan B!" Goyle confirmed.

Draco and Blaise stepped forward, each taking one of Arabella's arms and heaving her from her seat.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trepidation lacing her voice. "Put me down! Stop! Where are you taking me?"

Theo led the way out of the room while Crabbe and Goyle lingered to flank the procession from the back. Draco and Blaise lifted Arabella into the air, with one arm supporting her back and one lifting one of her legs.

"I'll gladly play a board game. Exploding Snap, anyone?" Arabella's futile mumblings of protest continued. "Put me down!"

As they trekked through the Entrance Hall, Narcissa poked her head out of the dining room. Theo sent her a wave and a smile, acting as if this were an everyday occurrence.

"Mrs. Malfoy! Help! They're taking me against my will!" Arabella cried out.

"Have fun out there!" she called, pretending not to hear Arabella's pleas. "Draco, make sure she puts on a wool hat and my good leather gloves."

Draco nodded as best he could from where he was. Ari had begun wiggling in an attempt to get away from them.

"No! Stop it! Put me down!" she protested, trying to hit Draco, but not really having a good enough angle to cause harm. She called out once again as they approached the sliding door to the outside, obviously attempting to get the attention of a Death Eater or adult figure, "Don't let them take me! Help! Thieves! Kidnappers! Save me!"

Draco couldn't help but chuckle at her vain attempts and started to believe she was enjoying the attention just as much as they were enjoying the exploit. When they had carried her outside, Theo presented her with her wool coat and hat, a nice scarf and some gloves to don to keep her warm.

"Oh, so we're _not_ playing 'give-Bella-pneumonia,' then?" she said cheekily while buttoning up her coat.

"Don't worry, you'll warm up," Draco assured her as she stood there shivering, adjusting her scarf.

Draco and Theo explained the nature of the game to Arabella as she pulled on the gloves. Two teams were to be formed. Each side had a trinket of some sort, such as immobile Snitches, which were hidden from the other team. The object was to get the other team's Snitch. Added to the adventure was the fact that the ammunition of war were snowballs.

"No magic allowed," all of the boys finished in unison.

"Obviously," Arabella rolled her eyes, and the boys all looked at her strangely. "Well, we're underage," she supplied.

They laughed.

"Yes, but that never stopped one of us from using a parent or a house elf growing up," Draco explained.

Her eyes widened in understanding, "Ah."

"Alright, Blaise, Ari and me versus the rest of you—" Draco began.

"No! You are not putting me with the two great lugs over here!" Theo protested, gesturing to Crabbe and Goyle. "There's no way they'll find anything! No, we divide up the brains and the brute equally."

Arabella smiled. Draco tried not to gape at her as his heart soared at seeing the evidence of her delight after so long.

"Fine, Nott. I take Bella and Goyle. You take Malfoy and Crabbe," Blaise said suavely.

"That's double hulk for you, Blaise. I don't like it."

"Are you calling me fat, Theo? No matter, we have the disadvantage of very little brains..." he said motioning to himself and Goyle. Ari and Draco chuckled, as Blaise continued, "...and a girl."

"Hey!" Arabella protested, her hands on her hips. "Not fair. I can hold my own!"

"Well, we'll just see about that, won't we, love?" Blaise teased. He purposefully ignored the glare Draco sent him at the pet name he used. Blaise was overstepping his bounds.

"Alright, heel boys," Theo stepped in. "Each team has fifteen minutes to hide the Snitch and build up snowball supplies. I'll whistle when we begin."

Arabella trudged off with Blaise and Goyle to prepare, forcing Draco to focus on the matter at hand.

"Don't tell me you want to go soft on them, you know, so your girlfriend can win," Theo said, crossing his arms in front of him. "Because—"

"—No, Theo. We're going to destroy them."

A large grin spread across Theo's face, "That's the spirit!"

Forty-five minutes later, neither team had made much progress in finding the Snitch from the other. What they all discovered is that Arabella could throw a Quaffle from 300 feet in the air flying at full speed into any of the three rings on a Quidditch pitch, but she couldn't hurl a snowball with even an ounce of accuracy.

"What are you doing?" Blaise shouted at her, when a snowball meant for Draco missed by at least a meter "He's all the way over there! And you call yourself a Quidditch player!"

"I'm sorry! Snowballs aren't like Quaffles!"

But what she lacked in aim, she made up for in might, when she did hit Crabbe finally (he being the wider of the three opposing boys), he sustained a nice looking bruise. Her aim improved the closer her target got, as Draco experienced first hand just moments later.

"Time-out! Time-out!" Draco called. "Let's replenish our snowball stocks."

Blaise continued to pummel them with snowballs as he ran to the other side of the garden, searching for the hidden Snitch, "No way! That's part of the game. You have to make them as you go."

"No seriously!" Draco called, thinking to himself, _They have to be out of snowballs too. They've been throwing like crazy._

"Awwww powr wittle Dwaco needs a bweak?," Arabella taunted, continuing to hurtle snowballs over the wall of the small fortress Draco's team was using, which really just consisted of one of the stone walls separating the garden from the patio.

"Oh yeah?" Draco stood tall and hopped over the wall, carrying a few snowballs with him. Each time Arabella peeked out from her hiding place behind a large granite boulder, he threw a snowball at her. As he got closer, her aim improved, and she grew more confident as she hit him again and again, giggling profusely. And then as he ducked he saw it: a snowball appeared out of no where right where she had picked up the last one to throw it.

"Why you little cheat," he hissed, but really smiling at her gall. She must have heard him, because her eyes widened and she scrambled to her feet. He went after her, even though she'd picked up a few snowballs and began tossing them back to deter him. She faltered when she slipped on some snow running up a small embankment, and he tackled her to the ground.

"You little cheat!" he repeated. "You got a house elf to cast a replenishing charm!"

Arabella wiggled and turned so she was facing Draco, even though he had her well pinned.

"All is fair in love and war!" she said, smirking triumphantly. Draco scraped some snow together and shoved it into her face. She squeaked and protested, "Mercy! Mercy!"

Draco hadn't any time to decide her fate, since they both heard, "I found it! I found it!" being called across the gardens as Blaise flounced into sight carrying a small golden ball in his fist, raised high in the air. Draco pushed himself to standing position and put out hand to help Arabella up, which she took thankfully. They brushed the snow off of their coats as best they could, but they still looked like giant snowballs themselves. He put his hand on her back to guide her back to where the other boys were waiting for them.

"What happened to you guys?" Blaise asked, taking in their white and wet appearances.

"He caught me," Arabella shrugged.

"Wait, you knew?" Draco asked Blaise, accusingly. Blaise mumbled and looked down at his shoe. "You traitor!"

While a significant portion of break had been spent helping Narcissa clean and decorate the house for Christmas, there was plenty of time to relax. Christmas Eve found Draco and Arabella sitting on the sofa in front of the Christmas tree. Arabella had wrapped herself in a nest of blankets and pillows, her previous art project of making paper snow flakes abandoned on the coffee table. She was now engrossed in the ever-traditional _Wizard's Christmas Tale._ She had attempted to ask for some story by a man named Charles called _A Christmas Carol, _but was denied since it was Muggle in nature. The candles on the tree twinkled warmly, illuminating the room and casting enough light for Draco to see the pages of the letter he was writing to Blaise. Every once in a while he would look up in thought to catch Arabella captivated by her book, alternating between expressions of sadness, consternation, and delight, including one rather long giggling fit she wasn't quite able to stifle.

Draco completed his letter not long before Arabella finished her book.

"Well, then, I'm off to bed," she sighed, trying to untangle her legs from the blankets, "Happy Christmas, Draco."

"Happy Christmas, Arabella," he murmured back to her.

Arabella began to climb the stairs when Narcissa exited the dining room, "Arabella, dear," she called after the young lady. Ari turned on the stairs to regard Draco's mother. "We have a tradition here. If you'd like to open one Christmas gift tonight rather than in the morning you may."

Arabella looked back at her sheepishly, "No thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. I can wait."

"Alright, then. Sleep well. Oh, and feel free to come down for breakfast whenever you want tomorrow. It's Christmas—a holiday and vacation—no obligation to get up early or sleep in late, it's your preference. And remember, you're part of the family now."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," Arabella responded bashfully. "And Happy Christmas."

She continued up the stairs, taking them two at a time now in what seemed to Draco to be a undeniable urge to leave her embarrassment behind.

The next morning, when Draco arrived early to the breakfast table, dressed in his usual black slacks and a green turtleneck (to try and be festive), he was surprised to see Arabella already awake and sipping on tea. A half-eaten sticky bun sat before her, her right hand holding her fork in midair and her left balancing her novel from the night before.

"Good morning, Draco," his mother stood to greet him with a hug, "Happy Christmas."

Draco took a seat beside Ari, piling sticky buns onto his plate and pouring himself some hot chocolate.

"Happy Christmas, Arabella," he whispered to her.

She pulled herself reluctantly from her reading, closing the book and placing it in front of her plate, near the center piece so as not to be tempted to open it again, "Happy Christmas to you, too!"

They quite easily and amiably fell into conversation, with Arabella asking questions about the tradition and history of the story, as if it was some huge Wizarding secret she had been left out of for the past four years. Draco revelled in the feeling of knowing something she didn't, and happily gobbled up whatever attention she would grant him.

When plates were cleared and mugs refilled, Narcissa guided them into the main room. Draco tried not to rush forward like an eight-year-old when he saw his gifts below the tree, all stacked by his usual arm chair. Other gifts littered the floor, stretching out onto the rug under the coffee table like the sea invading the beach.

"Arabella, dear," his mother called from her seat on the couch, and gesturing to a pile of wrapped presents near the armchair opposite Draco's, "your gifts are over here."

Draco looked back at Arabella expectantly, and several things struck him for the first time. She stood, trying to remain apart from the family, as if not wanting to intrude upon something private. Her Christmas themed pajama pants dotted with pictures of holly clashed with her warm purple robe, which matched the mug of tea she was clutching quite forcefully. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she looked at Narcissa in amazement. He suddenly realized why she was embarrassed last night, and why she appeared to be amazed now. She hadn't expected any gifts for Christmas. Had she ever received a Christmas pile the size of what Draco expected? Was this her first _real_ Christmas? Shame flooded him as he realized the innate selfishness of expecting a pile of new things on Christmas morning and rushing toward it without regard for another. Draco watched her take her seat, her face filling with wonder at the gifts before her. Lucius joined them with his coffee and newspaper, sitting beside his wife on the couch.

"Well, go on, then!" Narciss said brightly, wringing her hands with excitement. Arabella looked at Draco for direction, so he simply picked a gift off the pile, checked for a tag, and began unwrapping. Arabella followed suit, albeit slowly. Draco found himself moving more slowly than he ever had, wanting to watch Arabella just as much as he wanted to see his own gifts, reveling in her excitement. She took each gift lovingly, and slowly unwrapped it, as if relishing the feeling of not knowing what was inside—as if it would all very soon disappear and she wanted to remember the feeling forever. They fell into a rhythm then, of each taking a moment to open a present and watch the other and share in the enthusiasm of it together. Draco tried to ignore the pang of disappointment, realizing how much he had missed not having Arabella—or some other sibling—with him on Christmas to slow him down and make him less self-centered.

They both received a pile of new clothing. Arabella's consisted of new winter dresses and lots of pajamas deemed more appropriate than what she had been wearing (all of which had been Muggle or hand sewn by Mrs. Weasley). They also both received a new broom care kit, a variety of books and a new pair of running shoes (after they opened "his" and "hers" colored shoes—Arabella sent him a nasty look, obviously realizing he'd told his father about their running together). Draco got a new chess set and cologne. Arabella in turn was gifted with a training Quaffle and a jewelry case filled with what his mother called "everyday" jewelry. Whatever that meant.

The only time Lucius Malfoy tore himself from his newspaper was to watch his wife open the new ruby necklace he had picked out for her and to watch what Arabella received from Potter, Granger and the Weaseleys. A very lengthy letter, which his father insisted on reading, accompanied Granger's gift, which included a Potions reference book and a homework planner that said things like "_Do it today or later you'll pay!"_ every time she opened a page. Draco found it annoying, but Arabella was sure she would find a use for it—as soon as she figured out how to make it shut up.

"What does she mean by one of your gifts will await you?" his father interrupted Draco's chuckling at the consternation Arabella was demonstrating toward the noisy planner.

"No idea," Arabella shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe it's something for the dorm room, or it didn't come in on time, or was too heavy for an owl to carry."

"What could possibly be too heavy for an owl that Granger would get you?"

"Knowing her, it's some crazy encyclopedia of every exam question ever to grace the pages of an O.W.L. exam," Arabella teased.

She deflated slightly at Lucius' glare, "You will notify your father at once the identity of the object when it is revealed to you."

"Yes, sir," she responded.

After an awkward moment of silence, Draco interrupted, "Well, go on then, what did Weasley get you—I'm dying to know."

"Nothing," she laughed, "he wouldn't know what to get me. I made a deal with him after he tried second year that he should never try again."

"And what was that?"

"A pair of socks..."

Draco looked at her, an eyebrow raised in question. What could be so bad about a pair of socks? Hardly personal, but not too bad.

"...that sing _Jingle Bells_ every time you take a step."

Draco cringed, "Yikes."

"So his mom just sends the same thing she sends all of us every year."

Draco peered over as she opened the gift to reveal a box of chocolates and a knit sweater. The sweater looked familiar—he knew she had one similar to this with a large "B" on it. But this one, instead, had a rose emblem.

"Cute! Like my middle name," she immediately shed her robe and donned the sweater.

While Draco opened his cards from Crabbe and Goyle, which always just held cash, he watched her open the gift from Harry. Inside was an intricately designed glass bottle full of pale amber liquid. There was a purple-colored tag hanging from the neck of the bottle. Lucius watched her suspiciously as she uncorked it and sniffed. She smiled. Draco had a good idea that Lucius and the Dark Lord had cast many a detection spell to try and discover what was in the gifts before allowing her to even touch them.

"Perfume?" Narcissa asked kindly.

"Yes. Vanilla and lavender, I think."

"How sweet," his father bit out before returning to his paper.

Draco felt jealousy returning, so he reached around the tree to grab a small box wrapped in dark purple paper and silver ribbon.

"One more for you, Ari," he said, handing the gift to her, "from me."

"Thank you, Draco. It was very sweet of you to think of me," she took the gift from him carefully. She, in turn, turned to hand him a large envelope decorated in various colored ink—drawings of Christmas trees, candy canes, snowflakes, candles—as well as potions cauldrons and vials, a racing broom, a Snitch and a ferret down at the bottom...just for good measure.

"Go on," she said, "you first."

He carefully undid the seal, trying very carefully not to rip any of the paper.

"You'll think it's silly," she whispered as he went, trying to hide her trepidation. "I didn't know what to get you, so I made something."

He slipped a small packet from the envelope as star-shaped confetti leaked out. It was a hand-made booklet:

_Draco's Coupon Book_

_each coupon redeemable by Draco Malfoy to Arabella Riddle_

_non-transferrable, Expiration Date: Never_

Draco flipped through the pages. Each was decorated with a hand drawn picture. There were coupons for: "one train ride to or from Hogwarts with no whining," "one trip to Hogsmeade," "two Quidditch training sessions—weather permitting...or not," "three study dates," and "one game of Wizards Chess," which Draco appreciated greatly, knowing how much she hated the game. There was also a "Wild Card" at the end, which indicated he could pick something of his own choosing. This indicated a level of trust he hadn't expected from her. She looked at him, almost afraid of his reaction.

He beamed back at her excitedly, "It's perfect. Thank you so much!"

Her face broke out into a relieved smile.

"Go on then," he encouraged her, "open yours."

She tore the paper carefully to reveal a velvet box of deep purple. She opened it slowly to reveal an earring and necklace set he'd picked for her personally. The little studs matched the charm dangling from a silver chain, all red roses. Yes, like her middle name. He'd considered getting something purple, knowing it was her favorite color, but he decided on red since it was more likely to match her Gryffindor tie than the purple. He tried to tell himself that was the reason more than the whole red-roses-stand-for-love cliché.

"Oh, Draco! They're beautiful!" she gushed. "Thank you so much!"

Much to Draco's surprise, she closed the box, placing it neatly on the coffee table before standing to embrace him in a thankful hug. He barely stood in time to receive it, but was grateful nonetheless. His heart flutter with optimism at his future with Arabella, and he chose to revel in the moment, despite the nagging pessimism that threatened to undo his perfect Christmas. He still wasn't terribly hopeful for that New Years Eve kiss.

_AN: I'd love you forever if you'd review! Please please please please **please**! No seriously, I'm begging._


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Harry Potter or anything belonging to the original canon. Bummer.

_AN: I don't usually do this, but since I **begged** after the last chapter, I'll give a big shout out and a thanks to my reviewers:_

_xXMizz Alec VolturiXx_

_Durimu_

_TheMysteriousAuthoress0925_

_Thank you so much! Please keep the reviews, questions and suggestions coming!_

**XXII. Jail Break**

When the Malfoys and Arabella Riddle arrived at Platform 9 ¾ for the return journey to Hogwarts, Draco was feeling anxious. Ari was clothed in one of her new dresses, her hair slicked back into a bun at the nape of her neck with an exquisitely fashioned hat to match her outfit. Her arm was linked with Draco's as she thanked his father and mother profusely for their hospitality. Draco patted her hand reassuringly as his mother reminded her she was family. Despite the appearance of good behavior, Ari seemed agitated. She periodically attempted to cast a covert glance around the platform, obviously looking for the sea of redheads that would indicate the Weasleys—no doubt with Potter and Granger in tow. When finally they bid Lucius and Narcissa good bye, Draco ushered Ari onto the train, blocking her ability to view the rest of the platform with his body. Once situated, she rung her hands and sat on the edge of her seat until the train got moving. When at last they'd picked up steam, she stood. Draco looked at her expectantly.

"Washroom," was her excuse, "too much tea."

Draco nodded, not really believing. Thirty seconds after she'd left the compartment, Draco stood to follow. Catching Blaise's eyes, he rolled his own at the admonishing glance he was given.

"Just don't get caught," was all Blaise supplied.

Draco found Arabella exiting the washroom. He ducked behind a sliding door between compartments as she glanced his way before heading in the opposite direction. She made her way through the next three compartments, looking left and right at the occupants of the seats, smiling apologetically to those she didn't recognize and waving pleasantly to those who did. Finally, she came upon a fellow Gryffindor.

"Bella!"

"Neville, hi! How was your holiday?"

"It was great. And yours?"

Draco took an empty seat a few rows down facing the opposite direction, leaning his head into the aisle to listen in on the conversation.

"Fine, fine! Have you seen Harry, Hermione or Ron?" Arabella asked quietly.

"No, sorry. But I figured you'd be with them—oh, yeah..." Longbottom trailed off, "I forgot. You must've spent your holiday with...well that explains..."

"Explains what?"

"Nothing, nothing," Neville said too quickly before lowering his voice, "I'll tell you later. You know when..."

"Gotcha, Neville," Ari said, sounding overly delighted in Draco's opinion. "Well, I should return. Draco will be missing me, I suppose."

Those were words he hadn't expected from her mouth, and Draco stood to make a quick escape.

"You call _Malfoy_...Draco?" Longbottom asked, incredulous.

Arabella floundered for words, "I—I—I sup—suppose so...I mean, I sup-suppose it's just habit after the holiday..."

"Oh yes, of course," Longbottom responded, sounding a bit suspicious.

"Neville..." Ari said pleadingly.

"No, Bella, I understand. Really."

"We'll talk later?"

"Of course."

With that, Draco was out the door and down the hall, taking long strides to try and get himself back to the compartment with the other Slytherins as quickly as possible. He was slightly breathless when he took a seat across from Blaise.

"Tell me a joke," Draco asked him.

"What? Why?"

"Ari's on her way back and I need it to appear as if I'd never left," Draco explained quietly.

Blaise shook his head at his friend, barely betraying a smile, "You've got to stop it with all the deception, mate."

"Just _say_ something!" Draco said through gritted teeth as he heard the compartment door slide open.

"...and that's when he said, 'Stop acting like such a _ghoul_!'" Blaise said emphatically, slapping his knee.

Draco smiled and rolled his eyes, thankful for Blaise's ability to think on his feet.

"That was terrible," Draco groaned.

"It sounded terrible," Arabella agreed, taking her seat beside Draco.

"Hey," Blaise put up his arms in mock defense, leaning back into his seat, "he said it, not me!"

"Who?"

"One of my crazy uncles," Blaise lied simply. "Where you been, Bella?"

"Just took a walk," she replied, shrugging. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, not really looking at either of the boys.

"I thought you were using the washroom," Draco said, implying a question.

"Yes, well..."

"Ari..." came Draco's warning growl.

"I went looking for Harry, Ron and Hermione," she admitted.

Draco's heart soared at the thought of Arabella telling him the truth.

She continued, "I found Neville, but no one else."

"That's strange," supplied Blaise. "I'd've thought they'd come gallantly marching in demanding you be freed from our tyrannical grasp."

Both Draco and Arabella looked at him for a moment.

"Because that's not dramatic _at all_," Ari returned sarcastically.

They all burst out laughing.

"How about a game? Exploding Snap?" Draco asked, standing to pull some cards out of his briefcase stored in the overhead bin.

"I'm in!" Arabella said quickly, much to Draco's delight.

"Why not?"

And so they spent the rest of the train ride sprawled out on the floor of the compartment playing cards, talking Quidditch and sharing the worst jokes they'd ever heard. Draco couldn't think of a better way to end the holiday after all.

_Tap tap!_

Draco pulled his duvet cover up over his shoulders, rolling over.

_Tap tap scraaaaaaatch!_

It sounded like someone was scratching his nails across the glass of the window by Draco's bed. _Tap tap tappity...thump._

An additional set of taps was adding to the first, this time at the window over by Crabbe's bed. Draco groaned. The Slytherin dormitories, despite having a common room under the lake and bedrooms even lower underground still had accessible tunnels through which trained messenger owls could bring letters.

_TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP SCREEEEEECH!_

That was definitely an owl screeching. At last, knowing none of the other boys would do so, Draco flung his covers off and skittered over to the first window, throwing it open. In flew Malachi, his father's owl, a lettered tied to his leg. The tapping, however, did not cease. Four additional owls were also struggling to find their way in at the other windows. It suddenly dawned on Draco...if all five of them had received a letter at the same time...it could only mean news. _Big _news.

"Up! Come on! Get up!" Draco called loudly to his bunkmates, striding over to open the other windows, "We have letters!"

"So what?" Theo growled from beneath his pillow.

Goyle was being awakened by his father's rather hideously fat barn owl, which decided to make a midnight snack of his ear.

Draco returned to his own letter, ripping the bedclothes from Blaise's bed on his way back to his own, ensuring Blaise would at last wake from the dead. Draco pulled a treat from a little tin he kept inside his trunk. He fed it to Malachi with one hand while he slipped the small roll of parchment from the bird's feet with the other.

_Draco— _

_The Dark Lord has achieved another miraculous feat. He has freed ten of his most faithful followers from Azkaban, including your Aunt Bellatrix. It is likely the Ministry will blame this on Sirius Black. Play along with their deficient beliefs. In the time ahead, the Dark Lord will be naming his Inner Circle and preparing his next move. Be ready. And keep Arabella in line._

Draco didn't get much sleep that night. He and his fellow Slytherins spent most of the next hour talking about how life might change. The conversation drifted to what they thought would appear in the papers tomorrow and how it would affect the students.

"I doubt anyone will know," Theo shrugged. "Not for a couple days, when the rumors spread from the few who read or get letters from their parents."

"The Golden Quartet will know," Draco corrected, staring blankly at a blemish on the wall, "Granger gets the_ Prophet_ every morning."

His classmates looked at him incredulously.

"What?"

"You need to stop creeping on them," Blaise supplied.

"It's my job. They are Arabella's world."

They just mumbled and looked away, making Draco feel uncomfortable. But the discomfort lasted less than a moment, as he reminded himself of the honor it was to serve the Dark Lord—an honor bestowed upon him, not the others.

Draco didn't go down to breakfast that Tuesday morning. He bribed Crabbe and Goyle into stealing a bowl of oatmeal out for him instead. When Blaise looked at him funnily on his way out the door, since spying on Arabella at meals was one of his favorite past times, Draco responded simply:

"This is one reaction from her I'd rather miss."

And thankfully, he didn't see her until Care of Magical Creatures that afternoon. As it was, he'd been looking for her in the halls during passing time, but he couldn't spot her. Draco felt anxious and agitated all day, and Blaise kept telling him to cool it or someone would notice. Luckily for them both, their afternoon class with the Gryffindors supplied the perfect antidote to his anxiety: Hagrid was on probation, supplying Draco the perfect opportunity to continue to get on Umbridge's good side.

Tuesday night brought Draco and Arabella's regular meeting with Snape. Draco arrived right on time, five minutes after seven o'clock. He knocked twice and was granted entry to find Snape's office empty. There was some shuffling in the back supply closet, where he heard a glass break and a curse from his professor. Soon after Snape rounded the corner, healing a cut finger as he took his seat at his desk.

"Miss Riddle is _late_!" he snapped irritably.

Draco frowned, "She was at dinner, but..."

And then they said at the same time, "This isn't like her."

Arabella was always early. (Except when returning from vacation with the Weasleys.) And neither man suggested she'd forgotten, since she didn't forget meetings either.

"Do you think she's boycotting?" Draco asked.

"Over what?"

"The escape."

Snape pursed his lips, "Seems to me she'd want answers instead."

Draco supposed so too.

Finally, three light knocks were heard coming from the door, "Professor?"

Draco looked at Snape. It definitely wasn't Arabella.

"Professor? It's Hermione Granger," came the shaking voice of the bushy-haired know-it-all. "I'm with Bella."

Snape's eyes widened slightly as he stood and quickly made his way to the door.

"What's wrong?" Snape inquired nervously when he flung the door open.

"I—I don't know!" Granger said, and then she began talking very quickly: "We were talking, and all of a sudden, she seized up. And then she couldn't talk or open her mouth. I tried some counter-jinxes, but nothing helped. I was going to take her to the Hospital Wing, but she wrote down on her Potion's homework that I should just bring her here instead."

"Come in, come in, sit her down," Snape let them through, "Miss Riddle you need to calm down."

Granger guided a panic-stricken Arabella to the seat beside Draco, who stood to help her sit. Granger sent him a nasty glance. Ari was choking on her tears, unable to open her mouth to breath.

"Miss Granger, you may go."

"But sir!"

"I believe I know what is the matter. I'll put her straight, but I will need to speak with her first."

"But—but—" Granger sputtered, much to Draco's delight.

Before Snape could speak again, Arabella put a hand on Granger's arm, squeezing it lightly and giving her a significant look.

"Okay...okay," she said, turning reluctantly to leave, "I'll meet you in the common room when you're done."

Arabella nodded emphatically, watching Granger leave before turning back to Snape. The professor was leaning back in his office chair, looking at his student. Draco took his seat again, positioning himself closer to Ari as he attempted to pry her white-knuckled hand from the armrest of the chair she occupied.

"Arabella, you need to calm down," Snape said, his voice kinder and softer than usual. "There is no need to be upset. Take deep breaths."

She sort of whimpered and her breath hitched. Draco put a hand on her back and began moving it in circles, trying to comfort her.

"Calm...calm," was all Snape said for a moment. When it was obvious Arabella was faring no better, Snape began conversing with Draco about the weather, the holiday, potions, music...anything to get Arabella's attention away from her inability to open her mouth. The lack of attention focused on her gave Arabella the means to calm herself. Soon Snape was regarding her again, a vague smile gracing his features.

"So..." Snape began, "you were _talking_ with Potter?"

Arabella gestured to her mouth, obviously irritated he wanted to have a conversation with her when she couldn't speak.

"Oh no, this is a yes or no questioning session. Nod or shake your head. You don't need words for this," Snape answered curtly.

Ari glowered and nodded.

"And you were talking about—let me guess—something you were told while at the Manor?"

Ari wiggled uncomfortably in her seat, shrugging her shoulders awkwardly.

"Hm...something you _overheard_ at the Manor, then."

Ari's eyes bugged out of her head with surprise.

"Something regarding the Dark Lord?"

Another shrug.

"Draco?"  
>A sheepish nod.<p>

"So, now you know your father's threats about not repeating what you hear are not empty ones."  
>Arabella nodded, her eyes were now filling up with tears of humiliation. Snape must have seen this, for with a wave of his wand and lengthy incantation, Arabella began coughing and clutching her throat.<p>

"You couldn't've done that earlier?" she accused.

Snape didn't answer her directly, instead explaining, "Your father placed a very complex curse upon you last summer. It includes various ways of keeping you from revealing things you shouldn't to people you shouldn't. The correct counter curse relates to who you say things to as well as whether it is something of little or great importance on top of whether or not you were told it or overheard it. Be aware, Arabella Riddle, that if you tell Potter about things of great importance to your father, the curse that serves as your punishment will be much more than not being able to open your mouth."

Another sheepish nod was Arabella's only response.

"So," Snape leaned back into his chair again. "What exactly _were_ you telling Potter about Draco?"

_AN part 2: I know this is short...but I have another coming soon! _

_I thought I'd share my original letter from Lucius to Draco, which I wrote quite glibly just before bed, not knowing what to say, and trying to make sure I would know where I'd left off the night before._

_Draco-_

_ The crazies have escaped from Azkaban. Yay! Your Aunt Bella will finally get to meet Ari! And they'll get along great, don'tcha think? The reign of the Dark Lord is really at hand. Gothum city will fall!_

_Lucius the Lunatic_

_Reviews?_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Harry Potter or anything belonging to the original canon. Bummer.

**XXIII. A Date that Breaks**

Theo had been correct in expecting it to take a few days for the news to trickle through the school from those who had read the papers. The ten escaped Death Eaters soon became the only topic of conversation in the corridors. Rumors were flying that some of the convicts had been spotted in Hogsmeade, that they were supposed to be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack and that they were going to break into Hogwarts, just as Sirius Black had done.

Those who came from Wizarding families had grown up hearing the names of these Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as Voldemort's'; the crimes they had committed during the days of Voldemort's reign of terror were legendary. There were relatives of their victims among the Hogwarts students, who now found themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walked the corridors. Potter was subject of much renewed muttering and pointing in the corridors these days, yet there was a difference in the tone of the whisperers' voices. They sounded curious rather than hostile now, and once or twice Draco though he heard snatches of conversations that suggested the speakers were not satisfied with the _Prophet's_ version of how and why ten Death Eaters had managed to break out of Azkaban fortress. In their confusion and fear, these doubters now seemed to be turning to the only other explanation available to them, the one Potter and Dumbledore had been expounding since the previous year.

This, in turn, changed how people reacted to Arabella in the corridors. She, quite suddenly, became the subject of many a whispering fit. Most remembered she had returned with Potter and Diggory's lifeless body at the end of last year. Few—if any—began connecting the origin of her last name to her father. More often than not, she began to keep her head down in the halls, plowing through students just to make it to her next class unscathed. She was rarely seen without two or three other Gryffindor students, if not some of the Golden Quartet, then the Weasleys, Longbottom or her Quidditch teammates. The only time she was ever alone without them was during her meetings with Snape or her designated study dates with Draco.

Yet, it wasn't just the students' collective mood that had changed. It was now quite common to come across two or three teachers conversing in low, urgent whispers in the corridors, breaking off their conversations the moment they saw students approaching. This led to Umbridge's latest Educational Decree, Number Twenty-six, which expressly restricted professors from giving any information to students outside of their teaching curriculum.

With so much to worry about and so much to do—startling amounts of homework that frequently kept the fifth years working until past midnight, meetings with Snape, and Quidditch practices—January seemed to be passing alarmingly fast. Before Draco knew it, February had arrived, bringing with it wetter and warmer weather and the prospect of the second Hogsmeade visit of the year, which just happened to be falling on Valentine's Day.

As soon as the date was posted, Draco began plotting.

"Arabella?" he whispered across the table where they had encamped for an evening of studying in the back of the library.

She looked up from her Potions essay.

"Will you accompany me on the Hogsmeade weekend in February?"

She rolled her eyes, "Are you really asking me out while we're studying?

Draco thought for a moment.

"Yes!"

"I'll think about it," she said, turning back to her own essay.

Draco continued to watch her. She looked up at him again.

"Just let me finish my essay and we'll go for a walk, okay?"

"Sure," Draco said, smiling.

Thirty minutes, two broken quill tips, and a few pulled-out strands of hair later, Draco glanced up to see a frazzled Arabella with her hands fisted in her long hair as she inadvertently pulled it out of her messy bun. He stood and came around the table behind her. She didn't notice him put the cap on her ink bottle as she re-read her essay under her breath for the forth time. He slyly removed her back-up-back-up quill from beside her Potions notes. Finally, he leaned on the table over her, so it was impossible for her to overlook his presence.

"Arabella," he called softly to her.

She whispered just a little louder, trying to ignore him.

"It's time to take a break," he supplicated.

"I almost have it," she insisted.

Draco forcibly pulled her chair away from the table, ignoring her protests as she groped to remain facing her essay, which had been crossed out and re-written in the margins multiple times over. He pulled her up by the wrists, forcing her to look at him.

"Let your mind rest," he instructed. "Let's go on a walk, and when you come back, everything will suddenly be clearer."

He could see the internal battle wage inside her as she squirmed beneath his gaze.

"Fine," she finally spat out, not willing to admit he was right and she needed a break.

He took her hand in his and led her from the library, leaving their books and bags behind. When they got to the hall, Draco placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and guided her down the hall toward the grand staircase.

"So where are we going?" Arabella asked as they made their way past the main courtyard.

"Well," Draco contemplated, "how about a walk around the lake? Or the Astronomy Tower?"

"It's a little cold and wet for the lake," Arabella responded, rather timidly.

"The Astronomy Tower it is," Draco concluded with a smile, "and if it's windy, we can change our minds."

They walked in relative silence, climbing the stairs to the highest tower in the castle. At the top, they discovered a clear evening with hardly a moon and a field of stars before them. Draco began to feel nervous at the romantic notion of it all. He stole a glance at Arabella as she leaned over the stone railing to survey the grounds. She was biting her lip.

"What are you thinking?" he asked before he realized the words were coming out of his mouth.

"I'm wondering about why you brought me up here," she responded.

"Wondering, or worrying?" asked Draco, smirking, glad she was as nervous as he.

She smiled and turned to face him, "What do you think?"

Draco sighed, "I'm not going to hurt you or anything. You just needed a break and you promised me a walk."

"I did," she nodded.

"So about the Hogsmeade weekend..."

He broke off when he saw her knowing smile. She turned away and leaned her elbows on the stone barrier again.

"Yes, about that," she said, still smiling.

"What's so funny?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, nothing," insisted Arabella.

"But you're smiling..."

"Is that a crime?"

"No," Draco conceded, "I suppose not."

"So?" she asked, looking up at him. Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Will you go with me?"

Her grin morphed slightly, but didn't disappear. She took a deep breath of the night air.

"Why is it that it's so easy for you to ask a girl out, while it's painfully difficult for Harry and Ron to muster the courage?"

Draco now understood her amusement, "Were Potter and Weasel trying to get dates for Valentine's Day?" he asked snidely.

"Maybe," she shrugged.

"With whom?"

"None of your business!" she protested, still in good humor.

Draco returned to the original question, "Perhaps it's easy for me because I have self-confidence."

"Arrogance, you mean?"

"Confidence," he corrected.

"Or maybe," Arabella said, narrowing her eyes, "it's because you have so much _experience_!"

"Is that what they say?" he asked, slightly flattered.

"Yes," Arabella frowned, turning away from him. "You make the girls fall for you, you take them, woo them and then break their hearts into a thousand pieces."

"That's a bit dramatic," said Draco dismally.

They were silent. When Arabella didn't turn back to him, he took her former place leaning against the stone railing, gazing out at the stars reflected on the smooth water of the lake. He wanted to ask her so badly—he itched to ask her—but feared her response.

"And you?" he finally asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Do I make you fall for me?"

Arabella stiffened, and Draco suddenly regretted his bold question. He hung his head, knowing the answer already. The silence lengthened until it was no longer awkward. Arabella finally returned and matched his stance. To Draco's surprise, she took her place so close to his that their arms were touching.

"I don't really want to go to Hogsmeade with you on Valentine's Day, Draco," she finally broke the silence, her voice soft and honest. "But I will."

Draco's heart couldn't decide whether to sink or soar. He looked at her, and she peered back. Her dark eyes reflected the starlight. She shivered slightly as a breeze drifted by. Draco stood upright, placing a hand on her lower back. He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he said.

They returned to the library in silence. Arabella let him hold her hand the entire way back. When they sat down, she heaved a sigh at the sight of her essay, uncapped her ink and took up her quill. Twenty minutes later her finished copy was before her, slightly re-arranged and with a new conclusion written.

"You were right," she whispered across the table as she rolled up the scroll. "Everything was suddenly clearer. Thanks for the walk, Draco."

Draco smiled, too delighted to let his ferret-self say, _I told you so_.

The week before the Hogsmeade trip, Draco rolled out of bed in the foulest of moods. He contemplated not going down to breakfast at all but decided he wouldn't make it through classes without several cups of coffee. Unfortunately, his morning did nothing to improve. Two letters arrived from home, asking nosy questions and demanding improved performance. He was so preoccupied with his own misery, he didn't even see Arabella part with her bushy-haired companion upon entering the Great Hall to make her way to the Slytherin table. He was pouring himself a cup of coffee when he saw a pair of Mary Janes and a skirt slide their way underneath the table on the bench beside him. He took a sip of coffee before he hissed, "Bugger off, Pansy, I'm not—"

"Good morning, Bella," Blaise interrupted brightly, making Draco cringe, "what brings you to this side of the Great Hall this morning?"

That's when Draco finally looked up at the girl beside him, feeling embarrassed to see the dark expressive eyes and long blond hair of Arabella, who was indeed pouring herself a cup of tea, despite being seated at the wrong House table.

"Hi Blaise," she said sweetly, "just wanted to talk to Draco, here. Good morning, Draco."

"Good morning, Ari," he said, trying to feel happy.

"What's wrong?" she asked, sounding sincere.

"He woke up on the wrong side of the bed," said Blaise in a stage whisper.

"Shut it," Draco snapped at his friend, who cringed and gave a sympathetic smile to Ari.

"I'm afraid I'm not here to make it better, either," Arabella sighed.

"What?"

"I have to cancel on you for the Hogsmeade weekend," she said, eyeing Draco nervously.

"Why?"

"Angelina called an all-day Quidditch practice."

"Why?" Draco was growing more and more irritable.

"Because we've finally re-filled all of the positions."

"So?"

Draco couldn't understand why he was acting like such a prick, but he was so irritated, he couldn't help himself.

"Well," her demeanor changed from cautious to cross. "_Someone_ decided to incense a few members of our team into violence through _underhanded _and _petty_ means until they were subjected to a _life-long_ ban, causing us to find last-minute replacements for those positions, who now need to be _trained._"

"Hm...I wonder who that could be?" Blaise said nonchalantly, his chin resting in his hand as he eavesdropped.

"Nobody asked you," hissed Draco.

"Don't take your bad mood out on Blaise," Arabella returned angrily.

"And _you_," Draco rounded on Arabella, "Stop making excuses! Y_ou_ need to grow up. Tell me the real reason you're breaking the date. Do you really despise me so? Or is it Potter?"

"Too far, mate," Blaise warned.

"I'm not making this up!" Arabella exclaimed. "I don't despise you and Harry has nothing to do with it!"

"I don't believe you!"

"Well go ask Angelina. We really _do_ have practice, it's not just an excuse."

Draco huffed, changing his strategy: "You don't need extra training. The lineup of Chasers didn't change. You don't need to be at practice."

"Yes I do. I'm part of the team!"

"Tell Johnson you can't be there."

"No! That's not how this works!"

"Oh, no? Then by all means illuminate me on how _this_ works!"

"It's not _my_ fault that the unintended consequences of _your_ actions are making you cross!"

Blaise raised a finger to interject, "For the record, he was already cross...so really, it's making him _more_ cross."

"Shut it, Blaise!" both blonds said simultaneously this time, not taking their eyes of each other.

Ice cold grey eyes regarded dark brown ones. The dark ones softened first.

"I'm sorry you're having a bad morning, Draco," she began, putting a hand on his arm, "but I came here to _apologize_ for having to cancel, but obviously you don't want to hear it. So I won't waste my breath. We'll just have to...reschedule."

Draco tried to ignore the way she said "reschedule," as if the very thought were repulsive to her. Unfortunately her underhanded apology, obviously borne out of hurt, did nothing to soften the block of ice around his heart, and he gave no response. She sighed, untucking herself from the bench, her mug full of tea in hand.

"I'm sorry, Draco" she said, hardly a whisper. And clutching the mug, she glided away back to the Gryffindor table, hiding her face with her hair.

"Bad form, mate. You made her _cry_," said Blaise after a moment of silence.

"Shut _up, _Blaise!" Draco pounded his fist on the table in anger, and stood to leave, sending a seething glare Blaise's way.

Draco and Arabella didn't speak for the next three days. She didn't show to their usual study date, avoided him in the halls and even showed up late to Potions to avoid having to speak to him. During lunch on Friday, Draco was approached by Professor Umbridge.

"_Hem. Hem,_" she announced to him from behind.

He turned in his seat at the Slytherin table to regard her, "Good afternoon, Professor."

"Mr. Malfoy," she greeted him with a toady smile, "Please report to my office this afternoon before dinner."

"Am I in trouble, Professor?" he asked, giving an overly dramatic worried face.

"No, no! Of course not!" she giggled, "Quite the contrary."

"Oh, good!" Draco sighed. "I'll be sure to come by as soon as classes are over, ma'am."

"Very good, I look forward to our meeting—oh! And do bring Miss Riddle with you, if you please."

Draco repressed a flinch and recovered with a dashing smile, "Oh yes, she'll be so pleased."

And with a giggle and a smile, Umbridge departed.

"What was that all about?" Theo asked, repulsed.

"And why do you put up with her?" Blaise added.

"You know very well _why, _Blaise. And I have no idea what she wants, but it must have something to do with the Ministry if she wants both Bella—I mean, Ari—and I."

"Good luck with that, mate," Blaise said, returning to his lunch.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"Getting Bella to stand still long enough to drag her to the meeting."

"It's _Arabella,_ Blaise. Stop calling her Bella."

"Hey! Even you slip sometimes," Blaise winked. "But still, good luck with that."

And Blaise was right. He did need luck. Snape had made it incredibly clear in their Thursday meeting that Arabella had been beyond livid with Draco during her Wednesday update with the professor. Their Potions master also made it blatantly obvious that Draco was in the wrong about the entire issue. Arabella did, in fact, have an all-day Quidditch practice to attend on Valentine's Day, and was not breaking the date out of spite or as an excuse to get away from him. Her primary responsibility was to the team , and it _was_ Draco's fault they were forced to have an all-day practice. And despite his remorse he felt for making her cry, Draco couldn't help still feeling angry as well. He'd never been rejected before. No one had ever canceled a date, denied him a date or broken up with him before. He'd always been the one who dished out the heartbreak. And now, now that he had to take it in turn, he wasn't handling it well. Arabella was just being stubborn, as far as he was concerned. Denying her attraction to Draco just for the sake of being difficult.

As if reading his mind, Blaise interrupted, "Being angry with her is not going to help."

"No," agreed Draco as he ran his hand through his hair, "but it sure feels good."

Afternoon classes seemed to last twice as long as normal. Draco caught himself watching the clock every five minutes. Luckily, his last class was dismissed seven minutes early, giving him enough time to shove his things in his book bag and sprint to the other side of the castle to where Arabella's last class would undoubtedly be dismissed two minutes late. He even had a minute to spare to go check his hair in the mirror of the boys' lavatory. Arabella was the last student to exit her Ancient Runes class with Hermione Granger by her side. Ari was pointing to a page in a reference book that Granger was regarding over her shoulder. After a short discussion in the hallway outside the door, Arabella closed the book quickly and began stuffing it in her book bag as they walked.

"Bella, look..." Granger muttered after catching sight of Draco.

Arabella looked up only to narrow her eyes in annoyance, "Oh dear, they let the ferret out of his cage again. We'll have to alert Mad-Eye. Come on, Hermione."

"Arabella..." Draco stepped in front of her to block her path. She side stepped him to continue down the hall, but he grabbed her arm before she made it too far. "Arabella! Wait."

"Let go of me!" she hissed, ripping her arm from his grasp.

"Arabella, we need to talk."

"Oh really? Well I don't have anything to say to you," she said quite nastily.

"Can we speak? Civilly? And privately?" Draco asked imploringly, eyeing Granger pointedly.

"Anything you need to say to me you can say in front of her," said Arabella, crossing her arms in front of her.

Draco sighed, "This is between you and me."

Arabella just glared at him. She was silent, but she didn't try to flee. Draco looked over her shoulder at Granger behind her, who had backed up to lean against the stone wall with a book.

"You have every right to be angry with me," he lowered his voice so only Arabella could hear. "You were right about canceling the Hogsmeade date, and I sincerely apologize for acting so cruelly."

She regarded him suspiciously, reluctantly conceding, "Apology accepted."

"I'd like to take you up on that offer for...rescheduling our date."

"Okay..." said Arabella slowly, still suspicious.

"And unfortunately I need to steal you away from Granger right now."

"What? Why?"  
>"Professor Umbridge would like to see us in her office."<p>

"What did we do wrong?"  
>Draco grinned at her response, "Nothing. Remember the dinner before the year started?"<p>

"How could I forget?" she rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Well, I think she might be taking us up on that offer to help her in whatever way we can—"

"You mean _your_ offer—"

"Yeah, well, I offered both our services."

"Yeah, I know," Arabella answered crossly.

Draco looked at her pointedly, "Let's not fight."

"Fine," she said tartly and then sighed, "Fine, yes, okay, you're right."

Draco grinned and she continued, "I don't really have a choice about this whole service to Umbridge thing anyway, do I?"

"Depends on how you define _choice_," responded Draco cheekily.

"That's what I thought. Hold on."

Draco waited patiently while Arabella explained the situation to Granger, promising to meet her for dinner and fill her in on everything as soon as she was done. They parted going in opposite directions. Draco and Arabella traveled in relative silence to Umbridge's office. When they arrived, Draco stopped just outside the door to smooth his robes and straighten his tie as Arabella regarded him with a kind of morbid curiosity.

"Why bother?" she asked.

"It is always advantageous to look one's best."

"Did your father tell you that?"

Draco glared at her, but she didn't flinch.

"You would do well to acquaint yourself with a hairbrush," Draco drawled.

"And if you say something like that to me again, you'll acquaint yourself with my fist," replied Arabella tartly.

"Behave," Draco warned.

"Always," Ari smiled back sarcastically.

So Draco knocked.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own Harry Potter or anything belonging to the original canon. Bummer.

**XXIV. **

The room was more pink and kitten-y than he remembered. Draco fought the urge to cringe every time he heard a meow, berating himself for not preparing Arabella better. A firm lecture would prevent the inevitable snark that would rush forth like a river from her mouth. If only Merlin were merciful...

"I'm so delighted you _both_stopped by," Professor Umbridge smiled sweetly, directing the pair to two pink, plush, velvet covered chairs. They were just as voluminous as Draco remembered. He dared a glance at Ari from the corner of his eye to see the tomboy in her shudder slightly at the decor.

"How are classes going for you both?" asked Umbridge almost conversationally. Almost.

"Very well, I think," Arabella responded demurely.

Draco clenched his teeth, preparing for the worst possible interaction between the two women before him. Umbridge would say something about Potter or Dumbledore, and Ari would leap straight to their rescue, and her reputation would be ruined. And, oh, what a lecture he would receive from his father! Merlin above, please don't make it a Howler.

"Yes, I see you are both at the top of our classes," Umbridge replied, looking over a piece of parchment on her desk, "Your father must be very proud."

Arabella seemed to stiffen slightly, until she realized the professor was referring to Lucius. Luckily, only Draco noticed.

"Well," Umbridge continued, "I suppose I should cut to the chase, so to speak."

"We aren't in trouble, are we?" Ari asked, feigning sincere concern.

"Oh no! Of course not!" Umbridge exclaimed, falling for Ari's act, "I apologize. I should have clarified-I asked you both here for your help."

"Of course, Professor," Draco cut in before Ari could lay it on too thickly, "what can we do?"

Umbridge's face lit up, and she clapped her hands together with a girlish giggle, "I _knew_ I could count on you!"

If Draco hadn't expected that sort of giddy response, he would have recoiled in fear and disgust.

"You'll remember at the lovely dinner your parents held before the start of the new school year, I promised your father that, if it was not within my power to change the nature of the Prefects, I would institute a more suitable leadership group among the students?" her voice raised in pitch at the end more than strictly necessary to ask a question, but she continued on without pause, "Well, it's only a matter of time before I am appointed by the Minister of Magic to replace Albus Dumbledore as head of Hogwarts. And when I do, I will want eyes and ears among the students, ensuring their adherence to the Educational Decrees."

That was it. That was the comment that was going to make Ari go off on a tangent. Draco took Arabella's hand forcefully in his own, squeezing it tighter than strictly necessary to keep her quiet, "Why, of course, Professor Umbridge. It sounds perfectly practical, and entirely inevitable given the state of Hogwarts these days."

Umbridge beamed, as Arabella squeezed his hand back, her knuckles whitening in consternation.

"Your father has assured me you would be most helpful," continued Umbridge, "I plan to put in place an elite group of students with leadership responsibilities more thorough that that of _simple_ Prefects. I would prefer if you two would head the squad and aid me in seeking out additional students worthy of such positions."

"Why," Draco gasped, looking from Umbridge to Ari, eyeing her pointedly, "it would be an honor, for both of us!"

"I don't think I can do that," Arabella broke in suddenly. Draco nearly wrenched her hand off in anger. What was she doing?! All she had do was play along, keep Umbridge happy! And she was going to ruin everything.

"Oh?" Umbridge's smile fell.

"Arabella?" glared at her, grinding his teeth, "think about what you are—how wonderful an opportunity you would miss out on!" Draco change his words halfway to hide his true thoughts from their professor.

"I—I—I," she fumbled for words, "I wasn't chosen as a Prefect," she began. "It wouldn't feel right to somehow undermine the system."

Draco looked at her, appalled. Had she really implied Umbridge would _undermine_ the system?

"I mean, there's obviously a reason I wasn't chosen as Prefect, right? So I should focus on proving myself to my professors, you know, instead of taking on too many responsibilities..."

"Oh! How humble you are, Miss Riddle!" Umbridge giggled, and Draco nearly did too, out of sheer relief. Merlin, they were lucky Umbridge was taking Arabella's refusal as humility. If only she knew Arabella wasn't trying to be humble or charming, but rather get out of service she despised, especially with someone who was so vehemently against Dumbledore.

"I think you were denied your true right at the position of Prefect, and you have nothing to fear. You will perform excellently in my new squad, and will receive the respect and glory you truly deserve. That which was denied you during your _unfortunate _upbringing."

Draco noticed Arabella cringe at Professor Umbridge's word choice. Obviously the woman had been corresponding with Father too often. It sounded like something he would say about Ari's roots at the orphanage.

"That is very kind of you, Professor," Draco said, eyeing Arabella.

"Yes, thank you," Arabella barely whispered.

"I think this will give you the perfect opportunity to grow into your new heritage and develop some real confidence outside the classroom!" Umbridge said sweetly.

"If you really think me capable..." Arabella fulfilled her part in the ghastly play they were performing.

"I do!"

"Well, I am truly grateful for this opportunity," Arabella said, forcing a smile that never reached the anger pooling in her eyes, "We are so flattered you would choose us to lead in this manner."

"Well, you were obvious choices," Umbridge said with a small giggle. "Now, until the time comes, all I can ask of you is to keep this _our little secret_," she giggled again. "And keep your eyes peeled for other students who would be eager and willing to join our little group."

"Yes, ma'am," they said, in chorus.

They stood, still holding hands tightly and awkwardly. Arabella wrested her hand from his grip, but luckily Umbridge didn't notice as she was shuffling to open the door to her office.

"Oh, I am so looking forward to working with you! I can't wait to write to the Minister and to Mr. Malfoy to tell them what wonderful young adults you are!"

"Thank you, Professor Umbridge," Draco said, guiding Arabella out the door. She was already in the hall when he turned to wish their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor a good night. When he shut the door behind them, he became instantly aware that they were alone in the dimly lit corridor, and Arabella was itching for a fit. He could just see the gears in her mind winding up...

"If you have any mercy on my soul you will contain your outburst until we get to a classroom and shield it with a silencing spell," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the nearest empty and unlocked classroom.

The door had barely closed, and she was laying into him.

"What was that? You nearly ripped my hand off?!"

"I was trying to—"

"—control me?!" she interrupted.

Draco contemplated what tortuous death would await him should he confirm that that was exactly what he was trying to do.

"No! Of course not!"

She looked at him skeptically, hand on her hips, tapping her toe.

"I was only trying to—to—indicate that you shouldn't do anything stupid!"

"Like what? Tell Umbridge the truth?"

"Yes!"

"That I want nothing to do with her silly squad? That I'd rather leave Hogwarts forever than see her replace Dumbledore? That I just want more than anything for things to go back to the way they were before June 24th of last year?" Her voice rose in pitch at each statement, until she had worked herself into tears. She doubled over in a sob, burying her face in her hands.

"Sh-sh-sh, love," Draco approached her carefully, unsure if she would lean in or pull back. She stiffened slightly as he put his arm around her, but didn't pull away. He guided her to a desk just a few steps behind, helping her sit before taking a seat beside her.

They were quiet for some time. Arabella let a few tears fall as her breathing relaxed. Draco produced a handkerchief for her to dry her eyes, which she took thankfully.

"What am I supposed to tell my friends?" she bit out, finally.

"Nothing. You tell them nothing, just like Umbridge said," he said evenly.

She huffed.

"And if this squad or group or whatever really comes to pass?" she had already begun fretting, as usual.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said helpfully.

"You know—we both know what I will have to do..." she trailed off miserably.

Draco sighed, "Perhaps..."

She looked at him pointedly.

"Okay, fine, yes," he relented, and she giggled through her sob. "But you can blame it on my father, or your father, and tell them you had to play the part."

"I always have to play the part."

Draco didn't know how to respond to this.

"And Harry won't care. He'll hate me more," she said bitterly.

"Then Potter's a dunce," Draco said forcefully. How quickly Potter, the Boy Who Lived, turned against her! His one-time orphan in solidarity, his friend and confidante. _And it wasn't even her fault! _Draco had every mind to go punch him in the face.

"I hate being manipulated," she whispered dismally.

"I know," he whispered back, thinking back to his conversations with his mother and with Snape. _ Compassion and friendship. Not control or manipulation._ So unlike the advice he had gotten from his father...

She let Draco walk her nearly all the way to the Gryffindor dormitories that night. She left him on the staircase, as it was still changing, so he would still feel lost and not be able to find his way to the dormitories.

"Are you still angry with me?" she asked innocently.

He paused for just a moment.

"About Valentine's Day?" her words rushed forth, and a blush crept up her neck at the mention of a too-romantic holiday.

Draco neither sneered nor smirked, as he normally would in this situation, itching to make the girl of his affections blush deeper. But this wasn't any normal girl, this was Arabella. She wasn't like the other girls...

"No, I'm not angry any more. I'm sorry for how I behaved."

"Me too," she said, looking down at her shoe.

"Friends?" he asked, trying to peak beneath the curtain of hair she was using to hid her face.

"Or at least cordial acquaintances?" she teased back.

"Deal."

He didn't know what moved him to do it, but he stepped forward and placed a soft kiss on her warm cheek. She didn't flinch, or seethe, or push him away. So, he bid her goodnight and walked away, only pausing at the bottom of the stairs to watch her climb a different flight of marble steps leading up and away. He couldn't stop himself from thinking, with that halo of golden hair, she looked like an angel climbing the staircase to heaven.

_Blimey_, he shook his head, turning toward the dungeons, _February's holiday is making me bloody soft._

And so it was to be, that Valentine's Day came. Whether anybody liked it or not. It dawned cold and breezy, but the air was fresh and the clouds were innocuous. Draco dressed carefully, even though he knew there would be no Arabella today. He was still planning on going down to Hogsmeade with Blaise, in hopes of finding something nice to give to Ari by the end of the day. He arrived in the Entrance Hall at about the same time as Potty and Weasel, they sneered at each other ungratefully.

"Don't drop the Quaffel, Weasel," Draco sneered.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter rushed to the defense.

"Back off, Potter," Draco spat.

"What's your problem?"

"You," Draco said stiffly, and then it seemed, he couldn't help himself as he thought back to Arabella's despair the night before: "You call yourself Arabella's friend, do you? And then you treat her like garbage. Some friend you are, Potter."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know very well—"

"My relationship with Bella is none of your business!" Potter cut him off, his cheeks flushing and his voice rising.

"Relationship?! _Relationship?_" Draco asked incredulously. "Aren't you getting a bit ahead of yourself there, Potter?"

Potter fumbled for his words, paling slightly at the realization of what he said. "Friendship—our friendship is none of your business!"

"It is when she comes crying..." Draco left the implication hanging in the air, however inaccurately he portrayed the actual situation.

Potter reeled, as if he had been punched in the stomach.

"She wouldn't go to you..." Potter said angrily. Though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anyone.

"Wouldn't she?" Draco said, turning away to enter the Great Hall.

When he sat down at the Slytherin table, it took him but an instant to find the Golden Quartet. The post had just arrived, and Granger was animatedly speaking with Potter, while Arabella was reaching for whatever Granger had received to read it before the bushy-haired girl took off suddenly. Draco poured himself some coffee and dished out some oatmeal while he watched the boys interact with Arabella. All seemed normal. Much to his dismay. When Weasley left, Arabella stayed behind to talk to Potter as they sat side-by-side. This lasted what seemed like an eternity. Before she left, she gave him a hug and tried to pat down his hair for him, to no avail. Draco felt his stomach burn in anger and jealousy. Luckily, before he could brood too deeply, Blaise arrived cheerily, ready to talk about Hogsmeade plans.

As they walked from the checkpoint, where Filch was checking them out, down to the small village where couples would undoubtedly flock to Madam Puddifoot's, Draco couldn't help but to glance toward the Quidditch pitch, attempting to find Arabella zooming around on her broom. He paused to watch her throw an expert pass through the hoops, easily side-stepping Weasley's terrible goal keeping.

"They are going to get pummeled next match," he whispered.

Blaise contemplated his friend, "You sound almost dismayed, but that's a _good _thing, especially for Slytherin!"

"I know," Draco said, turning back to the road, thinking to himself, _But not good for Arabella._

As they walked, Draco informed Blaise of his ultimate motive for coming to Hogsmeade. He needed to find the perfect Valentine's day gift for Arabella. And he had no idea where to start.

"Jewelry?"

"No."

"Flowers?"

"Too cliché."

"Chocolates?"

At this Draco just glared at Blaise, "As if flowers weren't cliché enough..."

"Mate, I'm all out of ideas!" Blaise threw up his hands.

"We have to think outside the box..."

"...of chocolates..." Blaise whispered. "You left that pun _wiiiide_ open for me, mate. You can't blame me."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Why are you so preoccupied with getting Bella the perfect gift?" Blaise finally asked as they passed yet another shop without stopping in.

Draco didn't know whether to seethe, sigh or laugh. He wantedto find a gift that would convey to her how much he cared for her. He dreamed of a gift that would make her magically fall in love with him. He _needed_ everything to be okay between them again, to make up for his behavior when she broke their date. He hoped to find something that would make her feel special while at the same time showing Potter what an arrogant ass he was being to her this year.

"I need to make up for everything I've done to her in the past," he said quietly, hoping Blaise would understand and not make light of it.

"Everything is a lot, mate," Blaise said seriously.

"I know," Draco sighed. "And her life is sort of messed up right now, and it's partially my fault."

"Oh?"

While they continued walking, Draco explained. While dealing with a new family and a new identity, Arabella had been strictly instructed to not "associate" or "be friends" with Potter, while maintaining the facade of friendship. At the same time, she was given the task to report back on any "extracurricular" activities Potter conducted. Meanwhile, in a jealousy-filled attempt to somehow prove Potter was in love with Ari, and embarrass him in the process, Draco had made every attempt to drive a wedge between the two friends. He understood that this would get Arabella in trouble with her father and with Snape should they discover Potter was no longer talking to her, but Draco really didn't care. Additionally, he was miffed that his attempts to imply that Arabella was better friends with Draco than with Potter that morning had only made Potter feel guilty, not angry. And, just to complicate things ("_As if they weren't complicated enough!" said Blaise.)_ Draco wanted Potter to be angry with Arabella in order to push Arabella closer to Draco himself at the same paradoxical moment he also wanted Potter to stop being so mean to Arabella, since Draco saw how negatively it affected her.

Blaise stopped in his track at this, "Whoa whoa whoa," he took a big gulp of air, "That is way too many contradictions in one story. And let me get this straight: you're upset because your narcissistic attempt at manipulating Potter into hating Bella backfired royally, which is a bad thing for your love life, but a good thing for her (and therefore your) ultimate happiness?"

"Basically."

"And you're trying to make up for _all that_ with a gift?"

"Sounds idiotic, now that you say it aloud, doesn't it?"

"Idiotic, and futile."

They stopped as they found they had come to the end of the row of shops that formed the main street in Hogsmeade.

"Well, with that enlightening epiphany, we can go back and look at all the shops with new eyes," Blaise said optimistically.

Draco groaned. It was going to be a long day.

When dinner finally rolled around, Draco watched with anxious anticipation for the Gryffindor Quidditch team to return. They arrived, looking ragged and dejected. Arabella looked frazzled, with her hair coming out of it's binding in curling wisps. She and Weasley plopped down unceremoniously beside Granger and Potter respectively. Without watching further, Draco made his way to the Entrance Hall as several first years were arriving to dinner. He pulled a Gryffindor aside, startling him slightly at the sight of his Prefect badge.

"No, you're not in trouble," Draco assured the student, and then handing him a folded slip of parchment: "Could you just deliver this to someone?"

The eleven-year-old seemed baffled and scared, squeaking out a fumbled yes as he took the paper.

"Do you know Bella? Potter's friend?"

"Of course!" his voice cracked as if it were changing.

Draco handed the boy a slip, smiling inwardly that a first year so obviously knew who Bella was—hopefully for all the right reasons, and none of the gossipy ones.

"That's all, thank you," Draco dismissed the boy formally, after he didn't make to leave himself.

Draco watched from the door of the Great Hall as the boy went to Arabella, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. She turned, and a warm smile spread over her face as she addressed him. They must actually have known each other. They carried on a conversation longer than Draco anticipated before the first year even bothered to mention the paper, let alone hand it over. Arabella took the paper, peering at the young boy sideways as he explained himself. She thanked him with a small hug before turning back to her food and opening the parchment.

_Happy Valentine's Day. 8 o'clock. Astronomy Tower. Dress warmly._

She read it quickly, looking up to the Slytherin table to find Draco, who wasn't there. She scanned the room to no avail, a puzzled expression on her face. She didn't look toward the Entrance Hall, where he was still lurking in the shadows, watching her. Finally, as Granger and Potter pulled her back to the conversation at hand, Draco turned towards the dungeons to prepare.

_AN: I'm so so so sorry for the 8 month delay on posting this. Life got crazy in a hurry. I've hit a patch of inspiration, so I'm hoping to be more consistent with my posts. But grad school is sort of time-consuming._

_Also, I read through my old stuff—and I profusely apologize for all of the typos! Ugh, how embarrassing. _

_If you have a moment, please review! And thanks for being patient, and sticking with Arabella and Draco. 3_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter.

**XV. Dates**

Eight o'clock was fast approaching. A stroke of luck had granted them a soft breeze that had blown the earlier clouds away to reveal a starry sky. Draco had employed the muscle of the other 5th year Slytherin boys to help him carry supplies from the dungeons to the Astronomy Tower, then proceeded to shoo them away so he could prepare alone. When everything was in place, Draco hurried to the nearest men's room to change his shirt and run a comb through his hair. He made it back to the Astronomy Tower with just enough time to tidy things and rub a spot off his shoe before the clock struck eight.

Arabella appeared from the shadows looking apprehensive.

"What's all this?"

"Your Valentine's Day gift," Draco replied.

"Oh, Draco! I didn't get you—I didn't realize we were exchanging gifts!" she wrung her hands.

Draco shook his head, "No, don't worry. I wasn't expecting anything."

"I'm sorry!"

"Please, forget it. Just come enjoy yourself," he said, chuckling and beckoning her forth, toward the chairs and blankets. She looked at him skeptically.

"No strings, I promise," Draco said.

He sat her down in one of the plush chairs by the makeshift magical fire he had prepared to warm them. He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, which she took gratefully as she scooted closer to the fire.

"Cocoa or tea?" Draco asked.

"Uh...tea, please?" Arabella replied, confused.

Draco handed her a purple mug very similar to the back home filled with a steaming herbal tea.

"Thank you!" she clutched it between her hands to warm them.

"Dessert?" he asked, sitting with a cup of cocoa for himself in the other chair.

"Oooh, please!" her face lit up, and Draco was momentarily captivated by the reflection of the flames in her dark eyes.

Draco brought forth a small tray he had prepared, laden with treats.

"We have miniature cheesecakes, petit fours, fudge, truffles and I've some gelato hidden away as well," he said, gesturing behind him at a miniature ice box.

"Oh my goodness! Too many choices," she said.

Draco put the tray on a small stand between them, handing Ari a napkin, dessert plate and fork. He let her select first and watched as an expression of consternation spread over her face, unable to decide.

"I think you would like the white chocolate raspberry cheesecake. Or the chocolate turtle truffle," Draco said, pointing these out to her.

She smiled at him, "Well, twist my arm," she teased, choosing one of each.

They settled back, each with their dessert, and looked up at the stars.

"There's Lepus," Ari pointed up at the rabbit constellation.

"And Gemini," Draco commented, waving a fork in the air.

They spent some time pointing out shapes in the stars, both named and unnamed. They ate petit fours and drank their warm drinks as their conversation shifted from stars, to moons, to school work and finally to Quidditch.

"How did practice go today?" he asked casually, already knowing the answer.

Arabella just groaned.

"That good, huh?"

"We'll be destroyed."

"Surely it can't be _so_ bad," he commented, even though he knew she was right.

"It's so much worse. It's going to be incredibly embarrassing. Any chance we can convince your father not to come? Or the rest of the school?" she joked.

"Not likely," Draco responded dryly.

"At least Ginny's a good Seeker."

"What's your strategy?"

She looked sideways at him, "I really don't think I should be sharing that with you."

"I meant yours personally, not your team's," Draco replied.

"I suppose, keep the Quaffle for as much time as I can without getting killed," she shrugged. "If we can monopolize the Quaffle, maybe we won't lose by too much...if Ginny can pull through for us."

She sighed heavily.

Draco knew what she wasn't saying aloud. They were going to try and keep the Quaffle as much as possible, rather than aim to score as much as possible, in hopes that the opposing team would have less time to go up against Ron Weasley, the worst Keeper known to man. That would, hypothetically, grant the Seeker more time to, well, seek. It was a good strategy. But it wouldn't be good enough, in Draco's opinion. Still, Arabella's loyalty to Weasel in not criticizing him openly was...endearing. Honorable, one might say. They just really needed a new Keeper. A competent one.

"No use fretting over it," Draco said, trying to be comforting, "all you can do is your best. You're one in a team. It's not up to you to win the match all by yourself."

She looked at him as if he'd grown a second head, "Why, Draco Malfoy! What's this? Words of wisdom and comfort from the Prince of Darkness and Dripping Sarcasm?"

"Is it really that surprising?" Draco asked incredulously, blushing and fuming at the same time.

"No," she said, smiling at him still, "I'm just pleased. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She sighed and stood, "And thank you for the wonderful dessert out under the stars. It was really quite sweet of you, Draco." She paused, and then laughingly added, "No pun intended. Sweet. Dessert."

Draco rolled his eyes. Seriously. She could give Zabini a run for his money on the puns.

"And I'm sorry again about canceling our date. And I'm sorry I didn't think to get you anything for—"

Draco waved her off, "No, no. Don't think on it another moment."

She swallowed her words with a grateful smile.

"We'll reschedule?"

Draco's heart lifted that she remembered her promise, "Of course."

"I should get back to Gryffindor Tower. I promised Hermione we'd practice Charms before bed."

Draco nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do with them.

"Can I help you clean up?" she gestured to the chairs and leftovers.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "My treat."

"Okay, then," she said, wringing her hands and moving with small steps toward the exit in a nervous manner. "This was nice, Draco. Thank you."

"Wait, you can't leave without opening your gift!" he exclaimed. He'd almost forgotten!

"Gift? This—dessert—that was gift enough!" she exclaimed, blushing furiously.

Draco pulled from his pocket a small, rectangular shaped box made of white cardboard. It was tied with pink ribbon, which was curled into small ringlets.

"You really shouldn't have—" Ari started.

"—just wait, it's nothing special. Something small and silly," Draco cut her off.

She looked at him with pursed lips of disapproval. She didn't like it when he—or his mother—bought things for her.

She opened the box slowly, placing the box inside its lid she removed a small bottle from within. It was a clear plastic bottle made to look like glass. She squinted at the label for a moment before a smile broke out on her puzzled face.

"Bubbles?"

Her voice was filled with laughter and excitement, and suddenly it felt warmer at the top of the Astronomy Tower. She quickly uncapped the wand and blew the soapy mixture through the wand into the night air. They both watched the bubbles dance in the firelight and then pop.

"Try again," Draco said.

And she did, laughing a little, "I haven't done this since I was little!"

When the bubbles took to the air, Draco whispered: "What's your favorite color?"

"Purple," she supplied easily.

And the bubbles suddenly were a deep shade of purple.

"Red," Draco said. And they changed.

"Hearts," he commanded, and instead of globes they were three dimensional hearts, floating and popping against their seats.

Draco looked at Arabella, whose face was aglow.

She blew another batch.

"Purple butterflies!" she commanded, and the bubbles took shape!

She laughed, and Draco couldn't help the smile that invaded his lips.

"What can't they do?" she exclaimed.

"I don't know," Draco said honestly.

"Oh, don't say that! I'll stay up all night trying to figure it out."

"I should have gotten another bottle!"

And they laughed.

When at last Ari turned to go, thanking Draco profusely, she took the warmth of the evening with her. Before turning down the stairs, she looked back.

"Draco?"

"Hm?" he turned from his position, gathering his cloak.

"Want to go for a run? Tuesday morning before class?"

Draco thought for a moment. That was awfully early.

"Meet at seven?" he confirmed.

Ari smiled, "Entrance Hall."

And with the pitter patter of steps, she was swallowed into the night.

Draco sat again, leaning into the fire that was dying down, trying to soak up what little bit of Ari's presence was left as it was fading fast. He tried not to analyze the night too much, but it was useless to deny his heart and mind the privilege of reliving it all over again. She had enjoyed the night. She had _enjoyed_ spending time with him. They had talked, and laughed. She liked her gift. Her giggles were genuine. Her eyes had twinkled at _him._

"Don't read so much into it," Draco reprimanded himself in a whisper, standing and stacking dishes he would ordinarily leave for the house elves he'd employed to help him clean up. He wasn't used to analyzing dates. That wasn't his style. Being in control was.

Driving all critical analyses of the evening from his brain, Draco's thoughts inevitably led to their usual place. His father would want a report, and he had no new information. He didn't control Arabella any better than before. If he were to hear about it, Lucius would deem this evening a complete waste of time. But his mother, and Snape, they might approve. He had approached her with understanding and compassion. She hadn't acted threatened or defeated—aside from the slight issue with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Couldn't that be labeled a success? He would drive himself crazy asking such questions. He wasn't going to sleep tonight if he kept at it.

Draco scoffed in disgust, "_Valentine's Day!" _he spat. What a silly holiday to cause such anxiety. Thank Merlin it was over!

When Tuesday rolled around, Draco found he had no trouble dragging his body from the warmth of his bed earlier than usual in order to meet Arabella. He pulled on his uniform for the day, planning to change into his Quidditch uniform running gear down at the locker room. He didn't bother to style his hair, instead pulling on a warm beanie to keep out the cool breeze that would await them down at the Quidditch pitch. His stomach flipped in anticipation as he took the steps two by two up from the dungeons. Of course, Ari was already in the Entrance Hall waiting for him when he arrived.

"Good morning," Draco said, startling her from far-off thoughts.

"Hey," she sighed, almost in relief. "Ready?"

"Yep," he started toward the main door."Is everything okay?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" she said cheerily.

He was contented to see her happy. He smiled to himself as they descended to the Quidditch pitch.

They parted ways to enter their respective locker rooms, only to emerge minutes later in their physical training gear—Arabella decked out in crimson and gold, Draco in green and silver—each wearing their "his" and "hers" tennis shoes from Christmas. As they hit the track, Draco reflected on how odd they must look. Red was so often pitted against Green, as their Houses had always been rivals. And yet, here they were, jogging beside each other in comfortable silence. Perhaps those two colors, their two houses, could mingle one day. They ran a 10K, slowing only when they rounded the track to face the wind. Arabella seemed deep in thought as they ran, and Draco couldn't think of any suitable topic of conversation, especially after the intimacy of their talk on Saturday. Suddenly, that seemed lifetimes away...

They stretched, showered and dressed. Draco found himself waiting longer than usual for Arabella. She usually took less time than Draco to get ready, much to his consternation and her delight. When she appeared he could tell she had dried and curled her hair, fastening a red ribbon into her golden hair. She had paired a lighter gray pleated skirt and dark tights with a dark charcoal sweater vest such that the sleeves of her long white peter pan-collared shirt could be seen. Her usual Mary Janes had been replaced with nicer ballet flats obviously chosen for her by Narcissa Malfoy.

He noticed she was wearing the rose earrings and necklace he'd given her for Christmas. They matched the red of her Gryffindor tie perfectly.

"You look especially beautiful today," Draco commented as she whispered an apology for taking so long.

"Why, thank you," she responded.

"Any particular reason?"

"I just wanted to look special today," she supplied simply.

They chatted about gym routines and longing for spring as they climbed their way back to the castle. Arabella was falling behind, her book bag obviously weighing her down. Draco took it from her, ignoring her protest.

"I'm just worn out, I guess," she supplied finally. "And we haven't even been to our first class of the day!"

"That's what I'm here for," Draco teased. "To be the pack mule."

"Thanks," she smiled sweetly.

He handed the bag back to her when they arrived in the Entrance Hall, after which they departed to their respective breakfast tables. She joined her friends, and he his. The illusion of Red and Green mixing was lost, as they were once again facing each other from separate and opposing sides of the hall.

The post came halfway through Draco's second cup of coffee and third glass of water. Nothing came for him, but three owls landed before Ari: the pitch black one of her father's, Lucius' Malachi, and a spastic bird he could only assume came from some less honorable Wizarding family. How odd it was for her to receive word from home without he also getting mail. Surely Malachi had an additional letter for Draco, he had just stopped at Arabella first! She took the letters carefully from each owl, piling them carefully beside her plate of scrambled eggs. She treated them each to a bite of egg before they dispersed, all up and away. No post for Draco. Arabella seemed to read Draco's thoughts, looking up to meet his expression of irritation with a rise of her eyebrows and a shrug.

Granger interrupted their silent conversation by drawing Ari's attention back to the mail, asking a question with an expression of great concern. They talked for a moment, while Draco continued to consume his oatmeal. When finally she reached for the letters, she had obviously decided to begin with the worst. She seemed to hold her breath as she broke the dark colored wax seal of the letter from the Dark Lord. Draco watched her gaze up for a moment in trepidation, first at him and then to the head table, where Snape was drinking coffee over the morning edition of the _Prophet_. With a heavy sigh, she turned to the letter and read quickly. Draco sipped his coffee without ever taking his eyes off her. Her face seemed to flit between fear and worry and confusion. But, at last, she seemed to let out a breath, as if in relief of good news. Or, a lack of bad news, at least. She sent him a half smile in confirmation that all was well, before proceeding to the next letters. The whole event seemed peculiar, but innocuous. And Draco promptly forgot it.

The day proceeded as any other. Care of Magical Creatures with the Golden Quartet was nothing particularly special. Hagrid was still on probation, and had received some new bruises—from who knows where. Draco made note of this on a letter he was composing to his father, which he hadn't quite finished before post went out that morning. He also made note of Hagrid holding Ari back from the rest of the class after everyone was dismissed. When she caught up with her friends she was putting something into her bag, a wide smile on her face. Other than that, he was lamenting the meeting with Snape later on, as he would have nothing of value to report. This would undoubtedly find its way back to his father...

Draco moped all the way through dinner. Classes seemed dismal when they blended without respite into hours of homework. He barely enjoyed his stew, and tore to shreds a wheat roll without eating it before he finally forced himself to leave. Arabella had never arrived at dinner, and he couldn't waste any more time _not_ studying.

The library was quiet. Way too quiet. The scratch of his quill echoed inside his brain as he struggled to compose an essay on—well, now, come to think of it, Draco couldn't remember. He just couldn't concentrate. Their meeting with Snape was fast approaching, and even with enough time to finish this stupid essay, deep down he knew he was too distracted to finish it in time. He stood, leaving his quill and ink bottle with the others at his table to wander the stacks of the library. Old and dusty, these books held countless pieces of information about magic. Draco could only dream of learning to know them all. He needed to start reading more. He frowned, stuffing his hands in his pockets to continue his pacing until the hour of 7 arrived.

Arabella was already seated, quite calmly and cheerily in Snape's office when Draco arrived. And he found he was surprised to see her in good spirits and on time.

"You missed dinner," Draco commented gruffly as he took his seat beside her.

"We went later than usual, and I came straight here," she supplied easily.

In a very un-Malfoy-like manner, Draco huffed and crossed his arms, ignoring Snape's pointed look.

"What do you have to report?" Snape asked Arabella first.

"Nothing."

Snape raised his eyebrows skeptically.

"Harry had a really crappy Valentine's Day, but practice wasn't much better for the Quidditch team-surely Father doesn't want to hear about that?!"

"Hardly," Snape sneered. "He would, however, appreciate a report on your birthday celebrations."

Draco paled as his heart plummeted through the floor to the bottom of the Black Lake, "Birthday?"

Suddenly the day became clear—her appearance, the letters, stuffing something from Hagrid into her bag, going to dinner at a different time. How could he miss the signs?

"Surely you knew today is Miss Riddle's birthday..."

"Actually, no! No one bothered to let me know!" He glared at Arabella pointedly. She had had many an opportunity to fill him in during the week prior. Not to mention their run that very morning!

"I don't make it a practice of advertising that sort of information," was her pathetic explanation. "Please don't be cross, Draco. I don't like a fuss. The letters this morning were too much as it was."

"But I didn't get you anything-"

"-because I don't need or want anything! Don't worry about it."

"I'm sure you allowed Potter to get you something."

"I wouldn't use the word _allow_."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?!" Draco hissed, still cross.

"Because it's not exactly something to _work into_ a conversation, you know? 'Hi Draco, gee wiz sorry for breaking our date, thanks for the Valentine's day gift and, oh, by the way, Tuesday's my birthday!'" she mocked herself with a dull voice.

"That's exactly how you do it!" Draco exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air.

"All right, settle down," Snape interrupted.

When both blonds had decompressed and leaned back in their chairs, one with his arms crossed angrily, the other with her hands folded neatly, Snape began again, "Now, Miss Riddle, why don't you tell us all about your birthday celebrations."

Draco didn't really hear what she was saying, although it sounded like a list of people and things, probably friends and their gifts to her. His stomach felt gnarled with guilt, but he was sank into his thoughts before he could process exactly what she was saying:

_I can't believe I missed her birthday! Of all days! Maybe I can owl order something overnight. But what would I get her? She said she didn't want or need anything—I wonder what everyone else got her._

"-Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy got me a new journal and quill, but surely Father already knows about that..." Draco heard say between a description of Neville Longbottom's gift of a color-changing flower and Mrs. Weasley's apparently over-the-top package, stopping his musings in his tracks.

So his parents had gotten her a journal! Draco's plan from the summer was finally working out. It had taken him some time to convince his father and Snape that Arabella was writing in invisible ink, since none of the usual techniques for revealing such magic were the least bit fruitful on her seemingly blank journal. But, when Snape did some research on Muggle methods of invisible ink, he came across the use of lemon juice and something called a _black light_ to reveal hidden Muggle ink. That worked the trick. So, of course, the Dark Lord became privy to all of Arabella's secrets without her knowledge—and they desired to keep it that way. Hence the arrival of a new journal, since Arabella's current one was nearly used up with seemingly blank pages.

"And what about Mr. Potter?" Snape brought Draco's thoughts full circle—back to Arabella's birthday.

"No news," she smiled coyly.

"For your birthday?"

"He's a little preoccupied right now, don't you think?" she asked him pointedly.

Snape met her comment with a steely glare. Draco looked from Arabella to their professor and back again.

"Did I miss something?" Draco asked slowly.

"No," Snape and Arabella said simultaneously, both turning to him expectantly.

"So St. Potty forgot your birthday?"

"I wouldn't say forgot," Arabella said, picking at her fingernails.

Draco let out a laugh, "Ha! Well, now I don't feel so bad!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," she hissed.

"Oooo, a little touchy, are we?"

"It's not his fault!" she defended the Scarhead.

"Of course not!" Draco threw his hands in the hair angrily, "it could never _ever_ be poor St. Potter's fault! Merlin forbid!"

"Shut your trap, Malfoy, or I swear..."

"Enough!" roared Snape, his voice ringing through the dungeons like a church bell. "I've had enough of you two!"

Both students shrank back from each other and into themselves.

"Neither of you know how _infuriating_ it is to see two intelligent, self-sufficient young adults act like petty _children_. It's time for both of you to realize your potential—especially together—and _grow up!_"

Draco had never felt so ashamed of himself. He saw Arabella's red face from the corner of his eye and noticed immediately she was trying to hold back tears.

"Miss Riddle, you are dismissed. Enjoy the rest of your day."

He hadn't even finished his sentence when she was halfway out the door, leaving Draco to endure a rather uncomfortable silence alone with Snape.

"What did she mean about Potter?" Draco asked quietly after a moment.

"Pardon?" Snape asked, obviously taken aback by the change in topic.

"When she said Potter had enough on his plate or whatever it was."

"I'm forcing him to take Remedial Potions as a kindness to help him not miserably fail his OWLS at the end of the year," Snape drawled, and before Draco could comment with snide glee, "but you will not mention it to anyone, especially Arabella. It's nobody's business."

Draco wiped the smile off his face and cleared his throat, "Of course, sir."

"Anything else to report?" Snape asked Draco, peering over his desk pointedly.

"No, sir. But why didn't you warn me about Ari's birthday?"

"I thought you knew," Snape said sharply. "How could you not?"

"Because no one ever told me!"

"And I was supposed to divine that from your mind somehow?"

Draco leaned back in his chair, arms crossed angrily, "How did my mother and her father know if I didn't? How did _you_ know?"

"We all knew her mother. You know, when she was pregnant and all..." Snape drawled obviously.

"Oh yes, of course," Draco bit back.

"Don't be so cross," Snape said with a curl of his lip, "she's not upset. At least, not upset about that. She would have told you otherwise."

Draco wasn't comforted, "She's not upset, but Father will be."

Draco sent two letters that evening. One to Arabella, which included an apology for his behavior and a sincere wish for a happy birthday. The second was to his father. At last he had finished the latest "update," not that it contained much. However, instead of ending with the formal salutation he always gave his father, his letter ended rather abruptly, and with a question:

_How could you not inform me that __today__ was Arabella's __birthday__?!_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. Direct quotes are taken from the United States version of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix page 575. They are not mine, they are JK Rowling's.

**XVI. A Trip Away from Hogwarts**

The Saturday after Ari's birthday was the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match. It was the first one Gryffindor would face without Potter, without the Weasley twins, and with no prospect of _not_ being completely embarrassed. Normally, Draco would _live _for situations such as this—anything to watch the Gryffindors go down in flame, supplying fodder for his taunts of the Golden Quartet. But now that he knew Arabella would suffer, he would have made any excuse in the book to miss the match to save him from enduring the pit in his stomach that had lodged itself in anticipation of the team's—and therefore Arabella's—pure embarrassment. Draco's parents were out of the country, apparently on a "working vacation," so this was the first match Lucius would miss. While a good thing for Arabella, Lucius had written Draco to insist he attend the match to support Ari, even if he had "better things to do."

The very best thing you could say about the match was that it was short. Twenty-two minutes of agony. It was hard to say what was worst: Weasley's fourteenth failed save as Keeper, or Sloper missing the Bludger and hitting Angelina in the mouth with his bat, or Kirke shrieking and falling backward off his broom as Zacharias Smith zoomed at him carrying the Quaffle. The miracle was Gryffindor only lost by ten points: Weaselette managed to snatch the Snitch right from under Hufflepuff Seeker Summerby's nose, so that the final score was two hundred and forty versus two hundred and thirty. Arabella had played brilliantly, considering. She scored some of the only goals made. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only things Arabella earned during the match: she also earned herself a one way ticket to the Hospital Wing.

If Draco hadn't been watching Arabella instead of the Seekers racing for the Snitch, he would have missed it, like nearly everyone else did. Ari was streaking toward the Hufflepuff goal keep, the Quaffle tucked securely under her arm, gunning for one last goal before the Snitch was caught. She must have mistakenly assumed their new beaters, should they find themselves between a Bludger and a Chaser, would take a swing at it rather than duck for their own safety. She'd obviously forgotten the beaters weren't Fred and George Weasley. She had seen the Bludger, the Beater Sloper, and the opposing Keeper, and had gambled that her teammate would watch her back so she could take the shot just before Weaselette would catch the Snitch, securing a tie with Hufflepuff. But instead, Sloper ducked, and the Bludger pummeled into Arabella's side with a sickening crack. She dropped several stories from her broom to the ground with a disturbing thud. Draco was on his feet, scrambling toward the field before he had processed the shouts of exclamation resounding through the stands as Weaselette reared up, Snitch in hand. The only person who beat him was Madam Hooch, who was beside Arabella blowing the whistle simultaneously and frantically waving. Draco knelt at the side of her crumpled body.

"Ari, Ari?!" he whispered panicked, moving her blond hair from in front of her face, where wisps of curling hair had fallen from her braid.

There was a thundering of feet as members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team came running, followed by Potter, all calling Draco off from their teammate's side. An uproar of voices chattered through Draco's brain, nothing sinking in, as everyone tried to be heard over the others. Potter knelt at her side, moving to touch her, but suddenly recoiling as he thought better of it.

"What happened?" Potter asked frantically. "I was watching Ginny."

"Bludger pummeled her. That troll Sloper ducked and let her take it."

Draco was too worried to be concerned as to why he was having a cordial conversation with Harry Potter of all people.

"Make room!" Snape's voice could be heard as he and McGonagall made their way through the crowd of people now huddled around Arabella's seemingly lifeless body.

"Back up, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall commanded. With a flick of her wand, Arabella was lifted as if by the strings of a marionette, until she was a few feet off the ground. Professor McGonagall began walking towards the Hospital Wing, and when Draco made to follow, he—and the others—were stopped by Snape.

"Madam Pomfrey will want to evaluate her before she has visitors hanging about. Go back to your Common Rooms."

"But—!" Draco and Potter both started, simultaneously.

"No buts! Just go."

Potter turned towards his former teammates, and when he was out of ear's reach, Snape added, "Write to your father. Tell him it's imperative he return."

"Where is he? Is it really that bad?"

Snape's face was grim, "Abroad. And yes, I think so."

Snape turned on his heel, taking long strides towards the Hospital Wing while his robes billowed behind him.

Draco made his way to the Owlery. He sent two notes: one to the manor, where _someone_ would surely get it, and one to his parents. Both notes were succinct. He then couldn't decide whether to go pace outside the door to the Hospital Wing or to return to his Common Room, where Snape would surely find him to relay the news. At that realization, he decided the Common Room was best and made his way towards the dungeons.

When Draco entered the Common Room, most of the other fifth years were waiting, lounging on the couches, talking. At the sight of him, they suddenly became quiet, as if they had been talking about him.

"What?" Draco asked, accusatorially.

"Nothing," Pansy said, sniffing and looking haughty.

"Any word on Bella?" Blaise asked.

"No, no one was allowed in the Hospital Wing. I just got back from the Owlery."

Blaise nodded in understanding, "That was a—" he broke off, not finding the words, which Draco appreciated.

"It was something."

"It was terrifying," Blaise supplied. "You tell Bella we're all thinking of her and wishing her the best."

"Of course," Draco smiled slightly, highly aware of Pansy's foul expression at this sentiment. "Thank you."

Draco plopped down on one of the arm chairs near the fireplace, draping his legs over the armrest, and settled in to wait.

When at last Draco was called to the Hospital Wing, Arabella was already surrounded by admirers. Propped up in bed by a half mountain of pillows, she was listening to the Weasley twins promise to give Sloper a "good lecture" on proper Beating techniques and practices. The others giggled while she grimaced, but few—if any—noticed her discomfort. Draco felt angry and jealous that they were called to her side first. Wasn't he more important? Didn't his family ties and their future prospects count for something? Even if their relationship wasn't _clearly_ defined?

Draco hung back, waiting for the others to clear out. Arabella spotted him briefly among the shadows, and tried to smile at him. He just stuck his hands in his pockets and half-smiled back.

"Hey guys," she spoke quietly, her voice sounding almost strangled. They were laughing too loud, and at last Potter, bid by a hand-squeeze from the patient, grabbed everyone's attention for her.

"Thanks so much for coming to see me. But I'm wiped. And I still have one more visitor..."

The members of the Gryffidor Quidditch team said their goodbyes, but, after casting glances backwards at the visitor in question, the Golden Quartet lingered.

"It's ok, guys. He doesn't bite. I will see you tomorrow."

"I don't think we should—" Granger began.

"Hermione, please don't worry. I'm in good hands," Ari smiled, sort of.

Each Gryffindor said good night. Weasley awkwardly patted Ari's foot, while Granger insisted on fussing about the pillows and blankets before squeezing her hand tightly. Potter actually had the gall to kiss Arabella on the cheek before departing with a soft "good night" and a threatening glance Draco's way. Draco nearly bit out a snide remark, but thought better of it, given Arabella's condition. He came around to take the seat beside her that had been formerly occupied by Granger.

"How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. I don't know why though. Madam Pomfrey healed the broken ribs just fine. But I'm so tired."

"You look in pain."

"That's new. I was fine until about 30 minutes ago."

"Have you told Madam Pomfrey?"

"No. The team was here, and they just get going-"

"Let me get her..."

"Not yet," Arabella whispered, closing her eyes and laying her head back. She took up his hand and squeezed it. "Tell me the story."

"What story?"

"Of how the Quidditch game went today. I don't remember much, and Harry says you're the only one who saw me fall."

"You don't remember it?" Draco asked incredulously. "At all?"

"Tell me," was her only reply.

So Draco sighed, cleared his throat and began, in a very story-like way, "Once upon a time..."

Every once in a while, Ari would squeeze his hand in appreciation of his descriptions, her facial expressions still lined with pain. But toward the end of the story, she hadn't squeezed his hand in a while and her head had rolled limply to one side.

"Ari? Arabella?" He squeezed her hand several times.

She didn't respond. Draco ran towards the office, calling for Madam Pomfrey. She scuttled out, asking questions and waving her wand around. After some diagnostic spells, her face turned grim. A silver porpoise burst from her wand, and in a moment was swimming off, no doubt with a message for one of the other professors.

"A hand, Mr. Malfoy?" she said briskly, pointing to the side of the stretcher he was on as she was already lifting some safety bars on her own side. She tucked in the covers and turned as Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore burst in.

"What's the matter, Poppy?"

"We need to transfer her immediately to St. Mungo's," she began moving the gurney.

Draco, with the professors distracted, looked back at Arabella. His gaze was drawn toward the beside table. There, obviously brought down from Gryffindor Tower by Granger, lay a book and a familiar-looking stuffed monkey who was missing an eye. Draco took a moment to tuck these things carefully under Arabella's pillow so they were safe for transport, knowing she would appreciate having them later.

"Mr. Malfoy, please notify Professor Snape of what is happening. He will understand what he needs to do," Dumbledore said quietly.

"But can't I go with her? I'm family!"

"Unfortunately now is not the time for that, though I'm sure Miss Riddle would appreciate the thoughtfulness and company. You will see her soon enough. For now, I need you to follow those instructions," he spoke as they moved her toward the exit, where they would no doubt have to leave the Hogwarts perimeter before Apparating, requiring a long walk down to Hogsmeade.

Draco was given leave from Hogwarts to go visit Arabella the very next day. He was pleased to discover he was the only one—much to Potter, Weasley and Granger's dismay. Umbridge allowed Draco to use her fireplace to Floo to St. Mungo's, where he was met by his frantic mother, who had just returned from their trip. Lucius had remained behind on "business," apparently under instructions from the Dark Lord, who had received Draco's message sent to the manor the previous day.

"Oh, Draco!" his mother pulled him into a crushing hug, as if she had worried she would lose him, too.

"It's ok, Mother. I am ok, and Arabella will be too," he felt unsure, even as he said it. He didn't know the details of her condition, but he had seen her lifeless body, both on the pitch and on the stretcher.

"I can't forgive myself for not being there," Narcissa nearly sobbed, and what followed was unintelligible to Draco.

They rode the elevator down to the ground floor in tense silence. Upon approaching the front desk for the Artifact Accident ward, a helpful Healer pointed them in the correct direction, and they easily found the room, already labeled with her name. Just inside the door, they could see several bouquets of flowers, some sweets and some sort of stuffed animal that looked too Muggle to be true. Narcissa sniffed, "I should have brought something-I didn't even think!"

Draco could only pat her arm in comfort.

As they entered the room, Narcissa noticeably stiffened, and when Draco rounded the corner he knew why: Molly Weasley was sitting at the bedside of Arabella, who lay there, unmoving, her hand wrapped in both of Mrs. Weasley's. Mrs. Weasley looked up when she heard them enter, standing to greet them, placing Ari's hand gently back on the bed as she did so.

"Narcissa, Draco, I am so glad you're here," Molly began.

"Yes, I'm sure you are," Narcissa snipped sarcastically.

Mrs. Weasley recoiled slightly, "I didn't come here to undermine you, Narcissa. I came because I consider Bella one of my own."

Narcissa deflated slightly.

"She asked for you," Mrs. Weasley mentioned, obviously knowing it would soften Narcissa significantly.

The blond looked up hopefully.

"She knew you would come."

"I came as soon as I could-we were abroad, and I didn't get the news until-"

"It's ok," Mrs. Weasley patted the other mother's hand sweetly. "She's going to be just fine. She was always in good hands."

"Yes, of course." Narcissa choked out.

There was a moment of pause, and then Molly excused herself to let them have time alone with Ari. Narcissa put out a hand to stop her, "I can't tell you how grateful I am you were for her. When I couldn't be..."

"Always."

"Thank you," Narcissa whispered intensely.

Molly nodded and left, stopping only to speak briefly with the Healer, who afterwards entered to speak with Narcissa.

"You are Arabella's mother?" the Healer asked quietly.

"Yes. Well, legal guardian, technically," she turned to shake the man's hand. "Narcissa Malfoy, and my son, Draco."

"Healer Nelson," he shook Draco's hand as well. "I'm in charge of Arabella's care, though there are two additional healers who rotate through to help. Arabella arrived just in time. She had extensive internal hemorrhaging. The damage done by that Bludger was easily repaired, but the blood replenishing took a lot out of her and she had an allergic reaction to the pain medication. Her concussion is healed, no permanent damage, it was easy to fix once we found it."

Narcissa nodded with each piece of information, paling slightly.

"When can we take her home?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary. We can discharge her back to Hogwarts when she comes around."

"When will that be?"

"That's up to her," the Healer said vaguely. "Every patient is different."

Narcissa thanked the Healer and took the chair beside Arabella, who appeared pale but peaceful. In strangled whispers, Draco heard his mother whisper fervent apologies for not being there sooner, and promises to never allow her to play Quidditch again.

Somehow, Draco doubted that would stick for very long.

They stayed with her the rest of the day. Draco was forced to spend the night back at Hogwarts, where he returned during dinner to furious and jealous glances from the Gryffindor table. No doubt they knew where he had come from, and had received the news from the Weasley matriarch.

When Draco returned to St. Mungo's the next morning, Arabella was still asleep. The Healers gave no indication that there had been a change in her status overnight. Though concerning to the Malfoys, this didn't staunch the Healers' cheery optimism.

Mid-morning, Narcissa took a fretful walk up to the cafeteria to grab coffee and a snack for the two of them. As soon as the click-clack of her shoes had faded into silence, Draco took the chair beside Arabella, taking up the delicate hand in his own.

"You have to wake up, Bella," he allowed her former name to slip from his lips. "We are devastated without you."

Silence fell for what seemed like an eternity, as Draco's attention was pulled from the sleeping beauty to the window, where sunshine at last penetrated the gloomy clouds to shine victoriously through the window. If he were at Hogwarts, he would be out beneath the beech tree, pretending to study. The thought was painful for two reasons: firstly, he was not at Hogwarts because Ari was injured, and secondly, he should really be studying for his OWLS right now.

He looked back at Ari to find her brown eyes gazing back.

He didn't jump physically, but he felt startled, and his heart nearly jumped through his throat in relief. He smiled genuinely.

"You're awake!"

She mumbled something inaudible, forcing Draco to lean forward. She repeated a supplication for water. Her throat was likely parched. A cup and straw were balancing on the side table, so Draco lifted it to her lips, and she drank greedily.

"Thank you," she whispered, seemingly exhausted from such a small task.

"Merlin, I'm so glad to see you awake! Mother will be relieved."

"Have I been asleep long?" she asked quietly.

"It's Monday, late morning," Draco supplied.

Her eyes widened with anxiety, "I'm missing classes! And so are you!"

"Calm down, it's going to be okay," Draco chuckled at her concern Of course it would be about classes, not her health. "The important thing is that you're okay."

"What happened? Last thing I remember, you were telling me the story of the Quidditch match..."

"Well, you sort of passed out. Madam Pomfrey had you taken straight to St. Mungo's," Draco supplied. "It sounds like you had some internal bleeding."

"Draco?" Narcissa called, her voice laced with anxiety. She entered, carrying a paper bag from the hospital store hung around one wrist, a magazine open in her hands. Her face was pale and worried. When she looked up to find Arabella awake, she suddenly closed the magazine and folded it under her arm.

"Arabella!" Narcissa rushed to the side of her ward. "You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Confused," Arabella said, quite honestly.

Narcissa just smiled and stroked the young lady's hair affectionately.

"Understandable," Draco commented with a grin.

"Are you hungry or thirsty? In pain? Should I get a Healer?"

Draco tried not to laugh as his mother went into full mom-mode.

"I'm okay," Arabella said, leaning her head back into her pillow and closing her eyes. "My head just aches. All I want to do is sleep."

Narcissa went to get a Healer, handing the bag from the hospital shop and the magazine to Draco. She gave him a pointed look as she did so. Draco looked down to see a copy of _The Quibbler_ with Harry Potter's face plastered on the cover, the title written in large red letters across the page:

**Harry Potter Speaks Out at Last: The Truth about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and The Night I Saw Him Return**


	17. Chapter 17

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. Direct quotes are taken from the United States version of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. They are not mine, they are JK Rowling's.

**XVII. Fallout from _The Quibbler_**

Arabella was discharged from St. Mungo's that evening. Narcissa accompanied her to Hogwarts to get her settled in, since Arabella would remain in the Hospital Wing for a few more days. They were greeted by Professors McGonagall and Snape in addition to Madam Pomfrey.

"Potter asked after you this morning," Professor McGonagall told Arabella as Narcissa tucked her into bed. "I told him you weren't taking visitors this evening, that you needed rest, and that he could see you in the morning."

"Thank you, Professor," Arabella said, settling in.

"It's good to have you back," McGonagall sighed, patting her arm gently before taking her leave along with Madam Pomfrey.

When they were far enough away, Narcissa pulled out _The Quibbler_ from inside her purse. Turning to Snape she presented it with a questioning gaze.

"Yes," he nodded. "I've seen it. Dolores Umbridge has banned it from the school already."

"Ensuring everyone will read it," Draco mumbled dejectedly.

Snape merely grunted in assent.

"This will affect us all—including..." Narcissa trailed off, her eyes darting to Arabella.

"What is it?" Arabella asked, her brows knit with tension.

Narcissa looked at Snape, an unasked question in her facial expression.

"She'll find out soon enough. Better now, with family, than in the hallways with her peers."

Narcissa handed the magazine to her. Arabella's eyes widened in astonishment as she hurriedly flipped to the article. Draco settled in beside her, sitting partially on her hospital bed to lean over and read with her. He hadn't had the chance to read it through at St. Mungo's. Narcissa hadn't wanted to trouble Arabella with the news until they got her back to Hogwarts.

Arabella and Draco read through the article. He always read faster than she did, but he found he had to wait even longer for her to flip the page than normal. Her head was probably still hurting her. The details in the article were vivid enough, Draco thought, anyone who had doubts would now believe Potter's story. Potter had blatantly named Draco's father—and many fathers of other Slytherin students as Death Eaters. And unfortunately, he had decided to include Arabella in the story. Now, everyone would know she was the Dark Lord's daughter.

When Draco had finished, and they were waiting for Arabella, his mind wandered, rolling the details of that night around in his head. He had never asked Arabella what had happened, and she had never offered to share. He wondered if she'd talked about it with Granger or the other girls in Gryffindor. What about the Weasleys? And Potter? Surely she'd discussed these things with Potter, seeing as they'd lived through it together. Draco's heart felt heavy at the thought. Potter could comfort her, listen to her, support her. Why couldn't he?

At last, Arabella sighed as she put down the article, rubbing her eyes.

"Did you know about this?" Snape asked, not missing a beat.

"The interview?" Arabella asked.

Snape nodded. Arabella shrugged, causing Snape to growl slightly.

"Arabella, did your father not indicate to you at the end of summer that you were to supply any information regarding Harry Potter to me?"

"I suppose he did mention something about it," Arabella said vaguely. Her blithe sarcasm existed in sharp contrast to her weakened appearance, tucked into her hospital bed.

"You _knew_ this was in the works, and you never even mentioned it!" Snape threw up his hands in astonishment. "I could have put an end to this before it began!"

"Severus..." Narcissa warned, obviously disliking the Professor's tone.

It seemed to Draco he was acting as if he felt more betrayed than normal by her duplicity.

"I was sworn to secrecy," was all Arabella could supply. "Hermione kept me in the loop about most of the plans. Did you expect any different? She did take some precautions, knowing I was under surveillance: I wasn't present for the interview or anything."

"How did Miss Granger obtain Rita Skeeter's help?"

"Am I being interrogated?" Arabella asked. "Do I need a lawyer present?"

"Can't you discuss this later?" Narcissa broke in. "Arabella needs her rest."

"Answer me," Snape's focus was one dimensional.

Arabella remained tight-lipped.

"Why does it matter, Ari?" Draco asked. "The truth is out, now. Just tell Professor Snape what he wants to know."

Arabella looked at Draco and back at Snape, "Fine."

With a sigh she launched into an explanation that was worded very carefully, "Hermione found out one of Rita's many secrets after the Triwizard Tournament and used it to blackmail her into doing the interview for free. They met at the Three Broomsticks during the last Hogsmeade Weekend."

"When you were stuck in Quidditch practice," Draco added on.

"Yeah," Arabella collapsed back into her pillows, closing her eyes.

"Okay, that's enough," Narcissa said firmly. "Everyone out. She needs to sleep. Severus, there's nothing you can do. It's over now," she chided in response to his attempt at continuing the questioning. Narcissa motioned everyone out of the Hospital Wing, but not before Draco replaced the one-eyed monkey into the crook of Arabella's arm.

The next few days of classes were difficult. He and the other Death Eater's children were suddenly shunned by many in response to Potter's article in _The Quibbler_. First years scuttled away from him in the hallway—more than normal—and whispers haunted his shadows between classes. His only respite was in the Slytherin common room with the others or in the Hospital Wing with Arabella. Unfortunately, the latter location had become increasingly unfavorable as Potter had arranged to take his meals with her.

Draco began watching Potter's schedule to ensure his visiting hours with Arabella would go undisturbed. The morning she was to be discharged, Draco went down to the Hospital Wing early. Arabella was still sleeping when he arrived, but Madam Pomfrey allowed him to sit with Ari as she scuttled about remaking beds and replenishing potions. He sat quietly, taking up one of Ari's school books from the night stand. Inside, he found scribbled notes: spells, dates to remember, amusing quotes and notes passed to fellow Gryffindors. Draco smiled as he imagined Madam Pince, the librarian, having a fit at the sight of such a defiled book. He replaced it on the night stand, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. He took up one of Ari's hands in his own, examining it carefully. Her fingernails were longer than normal, but even and plain. He began absentmindedly counting the freckles on her forearm—each one signifying to him a day in the sun without the magical protection he'd experienced as a child to keep him pale. Rather than being an eyesore, as his mother had called such sunspots when he was younger, they added character to her soft, otherwise unblemished skin.

"Good morning," came a whisper from the pillow.

Draco looked up to see Ari gazing, smiling but sleepy, back at him.

"Good morning," he responded quietly, standing to lean over her. "How are you feeling?"  
>"Ready to get out of here," she stated, scooting herself up to sitting position.<p>

Madam Pomfrey shuffled over to check on her patient, "You look well. I think you're ready to leave at last."

"Hallelujah!" Arabella said vivaciously.

"Thank Merlin," Draco agreed and corrected at the same time.

"Alright, out, out! Let her dress," Madam Pomfrey shooed Draco away and closed the curtain around Ari's bed.

Not five minutes alter, Ari emerged in her uniform, book bag slung over her shoulder, her hair clipped away from her face. Madam Pomfrey bombarded her with warnings to take it easy and instructions on symptoms to watch for. Draco took mental notes, knowing Ari wasn't paying the least bit attention, too excited to be free.

"Eat a good breakfast, and if you need to leave class early, just go ahead—I've already warned the faculty."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Ari said sweetly as she barely refrained from skipping out the door.

"Want to take a walk around the lake?" Ari asked Draco when the door to the Hospital Wing had just barely closed behind them.

"Weren't you listening in there? Madam Pomfrey doesn't want you to over-exert yourself," Draco responded in scolding tone. Arabella would be the death of herself—and possibly him.

"Then you can carry my bag," she supplied.

Draco caught the strap of her book bag just as it was about to fall. Before he'd realized it, Ari was out the door and down the front steps. Draco hurried after her, slinging her bag over his shoulder as he went. He caught up to her easily, she wasn't moving very quickly, but rather seemed to be simply enjoying the fresh air.

They journeyed in companionable silence, Draco eyeing her all the way for signs of fatigue. He had already begun worrying about her health in his mother's absence. They reached the Black Lake, but Ari didn't move to walk around it. Instead, they plopped down in the damp grass and looked out over the placid water. All was calm, giving no indication of the great and mysterious creatures lurking in their depths.

Arabella sighed heavily, "It's good to be outside again...to be free."

"You talk as though you were in prison," Draco observed.

"You don't know what it's like to be confined to a bed for almost a week. It's good to get moving again. I mean, I don't know if I'll make it back to the castle, but..."

"Good thing I can carry you," Draco smirked, thinking back to the Yule Ball.

"Yeah...or not."

They both laughed the moment off lightly. An awkward silence fell, which Draco broke by proposing they return to the castle.

They started back, the promise of breakfast spurring Ari on. Still, she slowed considerably as they got closer, tiring conspicuously. Draco slowed down to meet her step, and when it wavered, he took her arm to wrap in his. She gratefully leaned into him as they walked. When the reached the Entrance Hall, Arabella made for her bag.

"Let me carry it to your table," Draco insisted, aware she might topple over at any minute.

"It's okay. I'll make it," she wave him off.

"It's no trouble."

Arabella reluctantly took back his arm, and let him lead her into the Great Hall. It was early and nearly empty, but there were enough people there to cause a stir. Forks clanked down onto plates as all eyes turned for a moment to the couple making for the Gryffindor table. Whispers spread like wildfire around the room.

Arabella looked startled and confused.

"_The Quibbler,_" Draco whispered in explanation.

Her eyes widened in realization and her mouth formed a silent "oh" in astonishment.

"Oh, yeah...I suppose our secret's out now," she teased, but Draco noticed the quiver of trepidation in her voice.

"How could you forget?"

"I guess when everything is always, and quite blessedly, about your best friend, you forget when something's suddenly about you, too."

"Potter," Draco spat in indignation. Of course everything was about _him._ And speak of the devil...

"Bella," Potter approached them looking worried and angry at the same time. "I went to the Hospital Wing, but you were already gone..."

"Yes, we went for a walk," Arabella explained faintly. "Unfortunately, I don't have the endurance I had a week ago."

She laughed nervously at herself, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. Draco was surprised to see her so mortified at having to admit her weakness to the two boys, both of whom understood perfectly what she meant.

"We should really get her sitting down and eating breakfast," Draco said, moving toward the Gryffindor table.

"I can take it from here," Potter said, positioning himself to block Draco and steal Arabella.

"She doesn't need to be rescued," Draco hissed.

"She does from the likes of you," Potter shot back.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"_Death Eater_," Potter hissed.

"Harry!" Arabella interjected.

"If I'm a Death Eater because of my father, then she's the Dark Mistress because hers. Might as well call her _Princess_ of the Death Eaters," Draco shot back.

Just as Draco realized he'd hit a nerve with both Gryffindors, Professor Snape walked up.

"Tsk tsk, fighting over Miss Riddle again, are we? Well if intelligence counts for anything, I'd suggest Mr. Malfoy—"

"Professor, they were just having a disagreement over...word choice," Arabella beat Draco to the punch line. "Forgive their pre-breakfast, low blood sugar irritability."

She began pulling Potter towards the Gryffindor table, pausing only to thank Draco and take her bag from him. Potter took it—and her arm—and sat her down next to Granger, who was already dishing up some scrambled eggs onto her friend's plate.

"What was that about?" Snape drawled, raising his eyebrows.

"The article," Draco supplied simply. "Everything will be about it this week. And Arabella won't know what hit her."

"A prime opportunity," Snape enunciated each syllable effectively.

Draco gave a curt nod of understanding, heading to the Slytherin table and a hot cup of coffee.

Draco didn't see much of Arabella the next week and a half. So much for a prime opportunity. When he expressed his concern to Snape, the professor waved him off.

"She goes to class; she goes to meals; she comes to our meetings. There is no cause for concern."

"I've not seen her in the Great Hall all week," Draco replied.

"She has been attending meals abnormally early. I assume to avoid the whispering."

"She's never in the library anymore," Draco continued, as if his professor hadn't even spoken.

"I imagine she finds empty classrooms or studies in Gryffindor Tower."

"She's avoiding me."

"She's avoiding everybody," Snape said curtly.

"Why?"

Snape sighed, "She's received a lot of hate mail since the article landed."

Draco's heart dropped. He couldn't imagine what that would be like.

"I had no idea," he whispered in response.

"Few do."

"Does my mother know?"

"Yes,"

"Did she have an aneurysm?" Draco asked.

"Nearly. I reminded her, however, that the school is already under increased protection by the Order of the Phoenix, and thus, she is perfectly safe here."

"She wanted to pull her out of Hogwarts, didn't she?" Draco asked. His mother was overly protective.

Snape nodded, "Especially after the Quidditch incident."

Draco nodded, and the conversation lagged as Draco's thoughts returned to the one nagging question he couldn't answer.

"But why is Arabella avoiding _me?_" Draco continued.

"Like I said," Snape said, his voice betraying his growing frustration with the continuance of the conversation at hand, "I think she's avoiding _everyone_. _Equally_."

Draco still didn't fully understand. She should want to hang around the Slytherins—especially those whose fathers were named as Death Eaters. They all understood the sideways glances and whispers. And Potter—what had he been thinking telling Ari's story in that interview?! He had all but thrown her under the proverbial bus! He had seen Potter in the library. The bespectacled Scarhead had sent him a rather smug side-ways glance when he'd spotted Draco whispering with Crabbe, Goyle and Nott. Goyle had cracked his knuckles as Draco whispered to Crabbe, "Don't worry. We'll get him back in the end. He'll not defeat the Dark Lord."

That night, after searching every empty classroom he could find and enter, Draco went to the Astronomy Tower. When he arrived, someone was already there, dressed in a baggy Muggle sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over a head already covered with a hat. Lit by a wand and the stars, the person was hunched over a piece of parchment and a textbook, scribbling furiously with a self-inking quill.

Draco approached quietly, and the figure didn't notice. He lit his wand silently, causing the student to jump slightly, startled. The figure turned, wand aloft.

"Merlin, you scared me," came Arabella's voice.

"I thought I might find you here," Draco grinned smugly.

"Why? Is Snape looking for me?" she asked bitterly.

Draco was taken aback by this reaction. Generally, she held the highest regard for Professor Snape and always addressed him properly.

"No...why?"

"Oh," Arabella deflated slightly. "Okay, then."

"Can I sit?"

"I suppose," she shrugged noncommittally.

Draco moved forward into what seemed like a warm bubble that Arabella had cast around herself to keep out the winter cold. He sat in silence as she continued with her essay. Draco caught her looking at him from the corner of her eye suspiciously between sentences. He eyed her essay—History of Magic. They sat in silence until Arabella completed her essay. She packed her things as if to leave.

"Why were you looking for me?" she asked finally.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" Draco countered.

She scoffed in response, "I haven't been avoiding you."

Draco gave her a pointed look.

"So..." he drawled, "you've been avoiding everyone? _Equally?_"

She eyed him, "Been talking to Snape, have you?"

"I was worried."

"Don't be," Arabella huffed, gathering her books to stand. "I'm doing just fine."

"Doesn't seem like it," Draco mumbled, scrambling to his feet and following her towards the stairway that led down from the Astronomy Tower.

Arabella didn't respond, stomping each foot as she descended the stairs.

"You seem angry and upset."

"Huh, I wonder why," Arabella rolled her eyes.

"Hey!" Draco grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. "Don't take this out on me."

"I'm not taking anything out on you! I just want to be left alone! Is that a crime?"

Draco sighed heavily, "No, it's not. I'm just trying to help."

"No one can help," she responded morosely. "Everyone knows now I'm the Dark Lord's daughter. Destined to be shunned, despised and feared for all eternity. Biggest loser of the genetic jackpot."

Arabella looked down at her shoes, shifting her books in her arms.

"You're not despised," Draco responded.

Arabella shot him a doubtful glance.

"You really think everyone hates you?" he asked incredulously. The very thought was preposterous!

"You've seen how they whisper in the hallways. When I find an empty seat at a table at the library, everyone moves. I get dirty looks in the girl's bathroom—even in Gryffindor Tower. At least you have allies in the Slytherin Common Room."

"Surely Potter comes to defend your honor," Draco commented, trying to hide his bitterness.

"He can't spend all his time defending me."

"I can. I will."

Arabella looked at him, a soft smile spreading across her face that made Draco melt a little.

"That's really sweet of you, Draco. But, I don't think that would help at all. I think that would make it worse."

"Oh, you mean worse with the Gryffindors. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. The blood traitors and Mudbloods..."

Her smile faded as quickly as it appeared, "I knew you wouldn't understand!"

She turned to go, but Draco grabbed her arm again, this time holding tight.

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Draco spoke bitterly over her request to be let go, "you want to be ingratiated with those who despise you. Despise you just because of your heritage."

Arabella finally ripped her arm from his grasp. Draco noticed his hand had left a mark on her arm that was slowly fading.

"You hypocrite! Because you don't judge Muggleborns just because of their heritage!"

"It's not the same thing," Draco spat. He imagined his face was just as distorted with anger as Arabella's. He supposed he wasn't nearly as attractive when angry as she was. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her dark eyes blazed with passion.

"It is worse! You believe them unworthy of magic just because their parents had none."

"They are not of magical lineage. They shouldn't have magic anyway!"

"What about Squibs? From magical lineage but with none at all?" Arabella shot back.

"_They_ are the ones who lost the genetic jackpot, as you put it," Draco supplied. "Muggles should stay in their world. Wizards should stay in our world. We were never meant to mix."

Arabella huffed, blowing the bangs out of her eyes, "It's all varying degrees of prejudice and bigotry."

"And funnily enough, you're at the receiving end. We both are. From your so-called friends and classmates."

"Their your classmates, too."

"At least I don't have to live with them."

"Yes, scurry down to your dungeon with all the rest of the Death Eater's children, where you can all be chummy and bigoted together," Arabella hissed.

Draco stepped forward menacingly at this comment. Arabella stepped back against a wall, her eyes widening in alarm.

"Yes, the children whose parents serve _your father_," Draco hissed back. "You are no better than the people who judge you. You judge us mercilessly rather than embrace who you are and find refuge with those who are equally despised due to Potter's little interview."

"I'm not one of you," Arabella said quietly, looking down.

Draco finally noticed his body was mere inches from hers—he had all but pinned her against the wall. He took a breath and backed away, turning to run his fingers through his hair in hopes it would release the tension between them.

"You'd be welcomed by the Slytherins with applause, you know?"

Arabella scoffed, "Yes, because that's _exactly _what I want."

"The guys like and support you, I'm sure the girls would, too..."

"Oh sure, Pansy would love me hanging around."

"This isn't about Pansy," Draco snapped impatiently.

They paused, both looking away from each other. Draco felt as if Arabella would come up with any excuse she could to avoid the Slytherins, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness. Draco was the first to look back, catching Arabella stealing a glance his way before returning her gaze to a folded corner of her History of Magic class notes.

"She hates me, too," Arabella whispered, referring again to Pansy.

"No one who knows you could ever hate you," Draco said. "And she doesn't understand."

"Understand what?"

"What's going on between us—you and me."

Much to his surprise, Arabella laughed.

"I don't think any of us knows what's going on between us, Draco. Do you?"

Draco contemplated the comment for a moment.

"No, I suppose not."


	18. Chapter 18

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. Direct quotes are taken from the United States version of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. They are not mine, they are JK Rowling's.

**XVIII. In Service to Umbridge**

Dolores Umbridge's classes were notoriously and monotonously boring. Sitting silently, reading dry Ministry-approved texts was not how Draco liked to spend an hour or more of his day. Draco spent most of his Defense Against the Dark Arts class periods "taking notes" as the Slytherins affectionately called it—passing notes, doodling or writing home. As long as they looked back at their texts every once in a while, Umbridge was no more the wiser.

So, when Umbridge called Draco up after class for a "quick chat," it was not without causing him a sudden feeling of panic and dread. Had he and Blaise been caught passing notes about girls? Or had she seen his Quidditch plays scrawled on a scratch piece of parchment?

"You remember our little conversation about a _worthy_ group of students?" Umbridge launched right in when Draco approached her desk.

Draco sighed in relief, "Yes, of course, Professor."

"Well, I'd like a list of their names by next class if you can manage. I need to know who I can count on."

"I can have it to you by the end of the night, Professor."

"Lovely! But let's keep this _our little secret_, shall we?"

"Of course," Draco agreed, giving his most winning grin.

Umbridge giggled slightly, dismissing Draco and pretending to shuffle papers on her desk, of which there were maybe a half dozen.

Draco checked in with the others he had previously approached about Umbridge's little group: Blaise, Theo, Crabbe, Goyle, several of the Slytherin Prefects and Quidditch Team Members, as well as, unfortunately, Pansy. He wrote their names on a piece of parchment, adding Arabella's last before folding it carefully and placing it in his inner cloak pocket.

Mysteriously, or perhaps, purposefully, Arabella was no where to be found. He had been meaning to warn her before he handed the list over to Umbridge in case she was approached by the High Inquisitor in front of her friends. The last thing Draco needed was Arabella to act out in any manner that would find its way back to Lucius. He was so desperate to relay a message to her by the end of the day, he resorted to approaching Professor McGonagall after Transfiguration.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" she was already sorting their last round of essays into a rather thick stack to be graded. "A question about the assignment? I thought it very self-explanatory."

"No, actually," Draco said, suddenly feeling unsure. "I was wondering about Arabella."

Professor McGonagall stopped abruptly and looked up, "Why? Is there something wrong I should know about?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Draco assured her. "I have been unable to find her—I have a message for her..."

McGonagall gave him a skeptical and stern look over her spectacles.

"...from my mother," Draco added awkwardly.

"Surely your mother can send an owl."

"Yes, she can. It just came to me instead. And I haven't seen Arabella anywhere, and I've been worried."

"Well, I am not an owl, but I will let her know when I see her that you approached me with concern. Are you _sure_ there is nothing I need to know? I am her Head of House," she fixed him with one of her infamously stern looks.

"Nothing you don't already know, I'm sure, Professor," Draco sighed.

McGonagall nodded curtly, her facial expression softening with Draco's honesty.

"Thank you," he added, taking his leave.

Draco was halfway through dinner when he saw three members of the Golden Quartet enter and seat themselves. The blond one he was most interested in was not among them. Not long after dessert arrived, Draco saw McGonagall approach the three. She spoke with Granger, specifically, but briefly, then swiftly left the Great Hall. Granger caught his eye across the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, holding his gaze for just a questioning instant before she returned them to her plate.

"Library?"

Draco sighed heavily, looking at Blaise, "Yeah, unfortunately."

"I'll tell you mate, this year can't be over fast enough. I've had about enough of the O.W.L.s"

"Agreed," Draco nodded emphatically, grabbing a cookie as they stood. They picked up their book bags where they had stashed them beneath the table, and moved begrudgingly toward the door.

Draco felt as if he had just settled into his essay on the advantages and disadvantages of the dreamless sleep potion when he was rudely interrupted. A first year had tapped him on the shoulder, thrust a piece of parchment forward, and scuttled away without a word. Draco opened the parchment, to find a short note in an elegant cursive, written in magenta ink. He didn't need to read the signature to know who it was from.

_ Mr. Malfoy,_

_ Please report to my office immediately. Please bring along any trusted friends you can find. The Ministry requires your assistance._

Beneath Umbridge's lofty signature was the seal of the High Inquisitor.

"Blaise," Draco whispered. "We have a break!"

Relief spread across his friend's face, followed by a knowing smirk.

Draco sent Blaise down to the Common Room to round up any trustworthy Slytherins, while Draco searched the rest of the library to do the same. Draco also sprinted up to the Astronomy Tower and checked some of the empty classrooms that remained unlocked, looking for Arabella. As usual, she was no where to be found. He quickly scrawled a note to her, handing it off to a first year girl in Gryffindor to pass along. The first year looked mortified at the task she was given, but a veiled threat with the mention of Umbridge got her moving. Draco found himself sprinting to Umbridge's office, arriving just as Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were joining the crew.

"Ah, good, welcome, welcome, come in. Make room, everyone," Umbridge said.

Somehow she had crammed quite a few students into her rather small office, and there was a shuffle of feet as the ones who had arrived first attempted to make room for those incoming.

"Where is Miss Riddle?" she called over the heads of the other Slytherins to Draco.

"I can't seem to find her. I've sent a note to her. She should arrive soon." _I hope._

The artificial smile he'd plastered on his face to feign confidence dissolved when the professor looked away.

"Very, well, let's begin. After dinner this evening, I was approached by a young lady who claimed that if I proceeded to the 7th floor corridor, I would find a secret room sometimes called the Room of Requirement. There, I would find a secret meeting. Beyond that, she was unable and unwilling to give me more information. So, I would like us to patrol the corridors, especially those leading to and from that particular corridor."

Umbridge then divided them into groups of two to four students. Each group was assigned a particular area to patrol for the evening. They were given express instructions on what to do if they caught anybody out and about, as well as how to contact her. Umbridge assured them that she would be walking the halls, shuffling between groups to check in throughout the night. Finally, she concluded, finishing with a flourish:

"Of course, whether or not we find something of particular interest to the Ministry, you should all consider yourselves privileged and honored to be in service to the Ministry. Thank you."

Draco and his group, consisting mostly of the other Slytherins in his year, headed up to the 7th floor corridor itself. They each split off to find a place to hide, laying in wait to catch whoever was in on the secret meeting as they left.

Draco hid in the niche under a dragon-shaped vase, which he was sure his father would appreciate as handsomely artistic. _Hideous_. It wasn't long before he heard footsteps clamoring from the Room of Requirement. He saw the Weasley twins, Ernie Macmillan, and various others sprint passed his hiding spot. He remained, patiently anticipating the big catch: Potter. Soon enough, two familiar figures entered his view. As they passed him, Draco easily took down the boy with the jet-black hair, allowing the blond to keep running.

"Trip Jinx, Potter!" Draco said triumphantly. The blond was halfway down the hall when she realized her companion was no longer with her.

"Hey, Professor—PROFESSOR! I've got one!" Draco called down the hall, where Umbridge was lurking nearby. He was positive a good—no, glowing—report would soon be making its way back to his father. He saw from the corner of his eye Potter motion to his classmate to keep running, but she returned at full bore, skidding to a halt in front of Draco just as Umbridge approached.

"It's him!" she said jubilantly at the sight of Potter on the floor. "Excellent, Draco, excellent, oh, very good—fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take him from here...Stand up, Potter!"

But Draco found himself too preoccupied to enjoy the glory. How would it look—Arabella being caught with Potter?

"Ah, Arabella!" Umbridge finally noticed her presence.

Arabella's cheeks were flushed from her sprint. Would her skin and her slight panting betray her?

"She just received my note," Draco explained the situation away (he hoped), sending a significant look her way. "She came as quickly as she could."

Arabella paled as she looked from Potter to Draco. Who would she betray? Potter shook his head slightly, at least Draco thought he did, it was almost imperceptibe.

"Looks like I missed all the action," Arabella croaked.

"Well, at least you came. You two hop along and see if you can round up any more of them. Tell the others to look in the library—anybody out of breath—check the bathrooms, Miss Riddle can do the girls' ones—off you go!" she turned away, concentrating all her energy on Potter. Draco took no chances, immediately grabbing Arabella's arm and dragging her down the hallway out of earshot.

"You are so lucky she is more preoccupied with her prize than with your strange and sudden appearance," Draco hissed. "What were you thinking?! You're supposed to be helping Umbridge, not consorting with Potter!"

"Wait, aren't I supposed to be spying on Potter—I mean, Harry—for you?" Arabella countered.

"Yes...but I don't think that's what you were doing," Draco returned.

"Technically, I'm not helping anyone," she said cheekily.

"Especially not yourself!" Draco spat. "Imagine if anyone else had seen you running with Potter! You'd be in the hands of Umbridge! Your reputation ruined!"

"Oh, so I should thank you, should I?" her voice was rising.

"Yeah, you should!" he yelled back.

"Well thank you very much, Draco Malfoy..." she shouted sarcastically, "...for ruining my life!"

She stomped away in fury.

"Go back to Gryffindor Tower!" he called after her.

"I was already going there!" she called back, making him feel a little foolish.

When she was out of sight, Draco found himself very alone and not quite knowing what to do with himself. He was so angry at Arabella, he wanted to leave and return to his dormitory. But he knew he should carry out the instructions given to him by Umbridge. Obligations and responsibilities-as usual. Draco growled, stuffing his hands in his pockets in irritation and heading towards the nearest men's room to search for runners.

That very night, they were called back to Umbridge's office. This time Arabella made an appearance, on time and toeing the party line. Professor Umbridge looked smug as she regarded the students packed into her cramped office.

"As the rest of the school will undoubtedly discover come morning," she began giddily, "Albus Dumbledore has left us, and I have assumed the role of Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

There were murmurs amongst the students as they applauded emphatically. Draco felt a warm breath upon his ear as he clapped loudly, "Shouldn't McGonagall become the new Headmistress?" Arabella mused.

"Not with the Minister of Magic meddling in the affairs of Hogwarts," Draco corrected quietly, so only she could hear beneath the celebration. Umbridge giggled and tittered, accepting their applause with pride and a complete lack of humility.

"It is my prerogative and privilege to create a new leadership group of students to augment the Prefect System already place," Umbridge continued once the congratulations had died down. "It shall be called the Inquisitorial Squad. And, it is my joy to appoint each of you to said squad."

There were smiles, cheers and polite applause, yet again.

"Mr. Malfoy? Miss Riddle? Will you come forward?"

Draco took Arabella's hand and led her to the front to stand beside Umbridge in the place of honor.

"These two exceptional individuals will lead you. Follow their example, go to them with questions, concerns or reports. They will pass anything of interest on to me."

She nodded to Draco, who took the stage. He thanked the Professor, leaning over her desk to grab a wicker basket full of silver badges. He handed the basket to Arabella.

"It is an honor to be appointed to the first position of leadership in the newly minted Inquisitorial Squad," Draco began. "We hope to bring order and honesty to the entire school. We look to you to be our eyes and ears when we aren't there. Thank you, Professor Umbridge, for entrusting us with this responsibility. Now, Arabella is passing out a badge to each of you."

Draco continued as Arabella moved among the crowd to give each student present a silver badge emblazoned with the letter _I_.

"You will wear these badges always. It is also how we will communicate meetings to you. They will vibrate if you have been called to an emergency. You will report directly to this office unless you are intercepted by Arabella or myself and given specific instructions."

Arabella had finished passing out the badges, and the students were pinning them to their robes as Draco nodded to Arabella to continue on with the speech. If her leadership position was to be believable, she would have to act the part.

"The badge carries with it rights and responsibilities. We will all be responsible for patrolling the halls, keeping students in line, breaking up arguments in the halls...the usual things Prefects do. Draco and I will meet this week with Professor Umbridge to go over everyone's schedule and draw up a patrolling schedule. Be sure to show up for your patrol, and never go alone."

"That being said," Draco cut in, "there are also some perks. As Inquisitorial Squad members, we have the ability to take House points away from not just regular students, but also Prefects. We also have access to the Prefect Bathroom and the Prefect Lounge. The passwords of those two locations are 'Wintergreen' and 'Ace of Diamonds,' respectively."

"Wearing the badge is more than just a privilege and honor," Arabella continued. "It goes beyond being noticed by your peers. It also means you represent the Ministry of Magic and the Minister himself. Therefore, you will act with the decorum and respect that is expected of all Ministry employees. You will be leaders amongst your classmates and friends, and you will represent the school as a whole. Acting irresponsibly will reflect poorly on us all, and you will be disciplined as Professor Umbridge sees fit."

"Thank you, Draco, Arabella," Umbridge said, taking over the floor from the pair. "You all have done well this evening, I look forward to working toward a better Hogwarts. You are dismissed!"

The students began chatting back and forth as they filed out of the office. Umbridge called Draco and Arabella over to her desk so they could set up a time to meet to discuss patrols. Draco was relieved she did not bring up Arabella's coincidental arrival at his tripping of Potter, simply praising them both for their leadership and little speeches to their peers, both of which Draco had written and made Arabella memorize.

After they were dismissed, Draco walked with Arabella towards Gryffindor Tower, even though it was out of his way.

"You did well in there," Draco commented, referring to the speech.

"What can I say? I'm good at regurgitating what other people tell me to say," she said bitingly.

Draco sighed himself into silence, discouraged. Without speaking, they walked up the first set of stairs, waiting on a landing for one of the fights of stairs to change to leading them in the correct direction. Arabella looked down at her toes.

"We've crossed that bridge," she whispered, referring to their previous conversation in the Astronomy Tower.

"I know," Draco replied. He'd been thinking about it since their collision in the 7th floor corridor.

"Now what do I do?" Arabella asked. "And don't say 'just play the part!'" she mimicked his manly voice in a terrible fashion.

"I don't know," Draco replied honestly.

"Thanks. But that doesn't help."

"I know."

The notices informing everyone that Dolores Umbridge was replacing Albus Dumbledore as the Head of Hogwarts went up overnight, but did not explain how every single person within the castle seemed to know that Dumbledore had overcome two Aurors, the High Inquisitor, the Minister of Magic, and his Junior Assistant to escape. It seemed wherever Draco went, the sole topic of conversation was Dumbledore's flight, although some details seemed to have gone awry. Other than these few, it was surprising how accurate the rest of the information was. Everyone seemed to know that aside from the "snitch", Marietta, who was now in the hospital wing, Harry Potter was the only other student present at the time. So, as usual, everyone besieged him for details.

Draco and the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad were helping Filch with opening the daily mail to search for information or contraband. Arabella had been noticeably absent from the mail-opening parties, which was to be expected. He did however bump into her near the entrance hall on her way back to the castle just before lunch. She was walking up the stone steps into the Entrance Hall with the Hufflepuff Ernie Macmillan and the rest of the Golden Quartet.

Granger was responding to something Macmillan had said, and even though he only caught the last bit, he was pretty sure he knew what they were discussing.

"...the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old..."

"Now do you _really_ want to finish that sentence, Granger?"

Draco slid out from behind the door as he said this, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"I'm afraid I'll have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff," he drawled, ignoring the malicious look Arabella was giving him.

"You can't take points from fellow prefects, Malfoy," said Macmillan at once.

"I know _prefects_ can't dock points from each other," Malfoy sneered at Macmillan nastily, while Crabbe and Goyle sniggered, "But members of the Inquisitorial Squad-"

"The _what_?" said Granger sharply.

"The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger," Draco said, pointing to badge Arabella had passed out the night before.

He looked at Arabella's robes to find hers missing. He'd deal with that later.

"A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad _do_ have the power to dock points...So, Granger I'll have five from you for being rude about our new Headmistress...Macmillan, five for contradicting me...Five because I don't like you, Potter...Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that...Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a Mudblood, Granger, so ten for that..."

Weasley pulled out his wand, but Granger pushed it away, whispering, "Don't!"

"Wise move, Granger," Draco whispered mockingly in response, "New Head, new times...Be good now, Potty...Weasel King..."

He lead Crabbe and Goyle away into the Great Hall for lunch, snickering the whole time. He wondered how Arabella would handle that after he left, but decided not to dwell on it since laughing at Potter was much more uplifting.

They sat down to a rather enjoyable lunch, while it lasted. The Slytherins, at the top of the totem pole with Umbridge in charge, were in a rather good mood. The food was tastier and the jokes funnier with them in charge. Then, suddenly, a loud noise-BOOM!-interrupted their merrymaking, and an afternoon of indigestion began.

The ruckus wasn't hard to find for the Inquisitorial Squad. Pandemonium reigned one floor down from Umbridge's office. Someone had decided to set off what looked like an enormous crate of enchanted fireworks. Dragons composed entirely of green-and-gold sparks were soaring up and down the corridors, emitting loud fiery blasts and bangs as they went. Shocking-pink Catherine wheels five feet in diameter were whizzing lethally through the air like so many flying saucers. Rockets with long tails of brilliant silver stars were ricocheting off the wall. Sparklers were writing swearwords in midair of their own accord. Firecrackers were exploding like mines everywhere Draco looked, and instead of burning themselves out, fading from sight, or fizzling to a halt, these pyrotechnical miracles seemed to be gaining in energy and momentum the longer he watched. Of course, as was soon determined by the new Headmistress herself, Stunning the fireworks caused them to explode with the force enough to blast a hole in a castle wall, while vanishing them multiplied the fireworks by ten. Lessons all afternoon were basically a waste, as professors sent for the Headmistress to come running to rid their classrooms of fireworks, apparently unable to deal with the pyrotechnical menaces themselves. By the time Draco dragged himself to bed, fireworks were still attempting to write naughty words (now, simply reading silly things like "POO" in the air) and exploding in various locations in the castle. He was sure whenever the perpetrator of this little prank was caught, they would be expelled faster than they could say Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. But that didn't comfort Draco as he attempted to find rest among the occasional blasts of sound and bursts of color.

Not surprisingly, Draco awoke rather cross the next morning. He looked most of the day for Arabella, hoping to confront her about not wearing her Inquisitorial Squad badge and not helping with the mail or fireworks nonsense. He couldn't seem to find her all day, which wasn't surprising to him anymore. Compared to the day before, it seemed rather quiet, until his badge began to vibrate not long after dinner with directions to head to the fourth floor. He made his way quickly towards the appointed locations, nearly colliding with Arabella as she exited the library, wand in hand.

"Ah, come to join us this evening?" he commented sardonically, falling into stride beside her.

"Wouldn't miss it," she spat venomously.

"Glad to see your badge where it belongs."

"Shut it, Malfoy."

"Tsk, tsk, Arabella. You wouldn't want your father hearing about this."

He could tell he had hit a nerve, even though she didn't respond. Her jaw was locked and she had sped up her pace, as if hoping to arrive before she felt the need to punch him in the face.

"You couldn't even find the courage to tell your little friends about the Inquisitorial Squad, could you? Didn't want to be disowned? What kind of friend group is that, that you can't even trust with the good news that you've been chosen as a leader?"

"Shut it, Malfoy...I'm warning you..."

They rounded the next corner to find Umbridge, Filch, and a younger Slytherin boy all gathered around the entrance to the boys' lavatory.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, Miss Riddle, so happy to see you respond to the call with such fervor," she said sharply as they joined the group.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"Montague seems to have returned to us," Umbridge said, pointing towards one of the stalls, where the figure of the large Quidditch player and Inquisitorial Squad member could be seen half-stuck inside one of the toilets. He'd mysteriously gone missing a few days before, but no one seemed to know exactly when or to where.

"Merlin! Is he okay?" Arabella asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"What's going on?" Montague's muffled voice wailed.

"He doesn't seem to remember much. Mr. Malfoy, will you please run-and I mean run-and get Professor Snape for us? Miss Riddle, please go retrieve Madam Pomfrey."

"Yes, ma'am," they said in unison, each sprinting off in opposite directions. Draco knew full well that although Arabella had no love for Montague, she would take such a task seriously.

Draco took the steps down to the dungeons in groups, jumping an entire flight at once. He sprinted down the hallway toward Snape's office, not bothering to knock. The door banged open and he sped in.

"Professor Snape, sir-oh-sorry-"

Draco looked at Snape, who's wand was aloft, but then realized he wasn't alone. Standing on the other side of Snape's desk was Harry Potter.

"It's all right, Draco," Snape said, lowering his wand. "Potter is here for a little Remedial Potions."

Draco had not felt such joy since Umbridge had turned up to inspect Hagrid.

"I didn't know," Draco said, leering at Harry gleefully. Draco could see Potter's face burn with indignation.

"Well, Draco, what is it?" asked Snape, pulling Draco from his ecstatic reverie of how best to use this information against Potter.

"It's Professor Umbridge, sir-she needs your help," Draco continued. "They've found Montague, sir. He's turned up jammed inside a toilet on the fourth floor."

"How did he get in there?" demanded Snape.

"I don't know, sir, he's a bit confused..."

"Very well, very well-Potter," said Snape, "we shall resume this lesson tomorrow evening instead."

Snape turned and swept from his office, leaving Potter behind. Draco grinned maliciously at his rival and mouthed "_Remedial Potions?"_ at Potter behind Snape's back before following the professor.

Draco scuttled after his Potions professor.

"Draco, go get Madam Pomfrey-"

"-Professor Umbridge already sent Arabella."

Snape looked at Draco before climbing the stairs two by two.

"So, Miss Riddle decided to respond to her summons?"

"It seems so," Draco commented.

Snape grunted lightly, as if in appreciation of this information. Draco wondered if he had anything to do with it.

When they arrived, Arabella and Madam Pomfrey were already there. The nurse was assessing the possible injuries Montague might have, and Arabella was attempting to help keep Montague calm. She spoke to him in hushed tones, holding one of his large hands in both of hers, patting it lightly as she spoke to him. Draco watched her help Madam Pomfrey and Snape from the background, marveling at how compassionate she could be when she wanted to be. She had tied her hair back hastily so that it wouldn't fall in her face as she knelt on the cold floor of the boy's restroom as water continued to gush from the toilet Montague was stuck in, obviously soaking Arabella's tights.

When at last Montague was free, Draco rushed forward to help catch and steady him. He and Snape helped him onto a stretcher Madam Pomfrey had brought, and she levitated it out of the bathroom. Snape and Umbridge followed, the latter thanking and dismissing the other two students present. Filch lingered, grumbling about the task of cleaning up.

Arabella was struggling to stand when Draco finally looked back. He rushed forward to grab her hand and balance her elbow.

"Thanks," she sighed gratefully. "I think my legs fell asleep."

"You were very kind," said Draco. He shook his head at himself. He sounded like an idiot. Apparently that was the best he could come up with, but she shot him a grateful smile, nonetheless.

"I don't know what I would do if I found myself stuck in a toilet..."

Draco chuckled and shook his head, "Me neither. I wonder how he got there."

"Hm."

Draco eyed Arabella as she walked down the hallway towards the main staircase. Her vague response indicating she knew more than she let on. Speaking of which...

"Did you know Potter was taking Remedial Potions?" Draco asked, trying not to sound too excited about this piece of juicy gossip—for her sake. He would revel in this information later with the other Slytherins.

"Remedial—what? No," Arabella responded, looking back up at Draco with a genuinely surprised expression. "He's not _that_ bad at Potions!"

"Well he must be if he's taking private lessons with Snape in the evenings," Draco said.

"Oh," she suddenly looked down at her shoes, but not before Draco saw her eyes widen with realization. "Yeah, you know, now that you mention it, Harry may have mentioned something about that."

"Oh really? And you didn't care to share that piece of information?" Draco crossed his arms in irritation. They had stopped walking when they had met the crossroads where they would go their separate ways.

"I just didn't really think about it, I guess," Arabella said. "Plus, Snape knows, so if he felt that...anyone else needed to know about it, he would have passed the information along."

Draco knew that she was referring to the updates that were sent to her father.

"I suppose so," Draco said.

"I'm sure Snape was just respecting Harry's privacy, and trying to help a student out," Arabella said.

"Surely," Draco said, not believing a sentence of it.

"Well," Arabella began again. "I'm going back to Gryffindor Tower to shower and get out of these wet clothes. Who knows what manner of matter is now saturated into my clothing...ew, I don't even want to think about it," she mumbled as she waddled off, trying not to touch her own clothing.

"Thanks for your help, Arabella."

"You're welcome," she called backwards, without turning around. "And it's just Bella!"

_AN: Hi everyone! Thanks for your patience. I've been struggling with this chapter for literally months. (I really dislike chapters with Umbridge in them.) I hope you enjoyed it! I'll try to have another chapter up much much sooner...of course, Reviews help! Thanks for reading :)_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. Direct quotes are taken from the United States version of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. They are not mine, they are JK Rowling's.

**XIX. Easter Part I**

Easter break was fast approaching. That meant a brief break from classes, but no respite from the tireless studying that engulfed the 5th years as their O.W.L.s loomed ever nearer. Draco and Arabella had each received letters the week prior to the break instructing them that their presence was requested at Malfoy Manor for the break. Draco welcomed the idea of leaving Hogwarts for a while, as his classmates' stress and anxiety regarding the examinations ahead began to make him feel stressed and anxious himself.

"Stop tapping your quill," Blaise hissed at Draco from across the table. They, along with the other 5th year Slytherins were holed up in the library, books and parchment spread across the table. "You'll ruin the tip. Not to mention it's bloody annoying."

"Sorry," Draco mumbled miserably.

"SHHHHH!" Madam Pince, the librarian silenced them viciously.

The boys ducked their heads, trying to escape her pointed look.

Just then, the Golden Quartet walked in, Granger leading the way with a giant pile of books in her arms. She led them passed the the table the Slytherin 5th years had claimed and on to the deep recesses of the library, where the large wood tables and drafty corners were rarely taken. As they went by, Arabella made a point to walk behind Draco, passing him a folded piece of parchment as she went. Draco wasted no time in opening it.

It was blank.

He furrowed his brow, performing a few revealing spells in case she'd used invisible ink. Nothing. Just when he was about to give up, words began to appear on the page, as though they were being written before his eyes. He was sure they were.

_ I don't want to go to Malfoy Manor for Easter break. I'd prefer to stay here and study for our exams. What do you think our fathers will say?_

Draco dipped his pen in ink and responded:

** They won't like it. **

When he'd finished writing, the words she'd written before had disappeared, to be replaced by a new note.

_ What do you think if I got Snape to back me up?_

** They still won't like it. But you might be able to stay**_**.**_

_ I'm too stressed to leave Hogwarts right now. Wouldn't you rather stay and study? We'll just end up studying the whole time we are there anyway. It won't be restful at all._

** Actually, I really wanted to go home.**

_ Oh. Well, then you should go home._

Draco shook his head as he read what she wrote.

** Then you'll be coming home, too.**

She didn't write back.

Draco was halfway through re-reading an essay on the twenty-four uses of newt tails when he saw words on the parchment Arabella had left him.

_ I don't suppose I could persuade you to stay?_

** Depends.**

_ On what?_

** What you're willing to give me in return.**

All of the words disappeared on the page before she replied.

_ How about a date on the Hogsmeade weekend over break?_

** I'll write to Father today.**

_ Oh, Draco! Thank you so much!_

Draco smiled to himself as he began a letter home to convince his parents they should stay for break. Sure enough, he received a letter in response later that night from his father. Apparently Arabella had also asked Snape to write to Lucius saying it would be more advantageous for them to stay and study. Lucius told Draco that they could stay, as long as they stayed together. If one came home, both did, just as Draco had expected. Lucius also mentioned that he would be stopping by the school over the break, as there was a meeting of the school Governors during the break as well, and he was tasked with checking in with the new Headmistress before then.

Lucius arrived midway through Easter break. Since most of the younger students, and many of the older students as well, had gone home for break, the Great Hall had been converted into a study center for the 5th years (awaiting their O.W.L.s) and the 7th years (dreading their N.E.W.T.s). At all times of the day, even during meal time amongst the goblets of pumpkin juice and plates laden with food, one could find groups of students huddled over class material. Books, pieces of parchment, notes from class, previous homework assignments and reference manuals ordered via owl post were spread across in piles of organized chaos. It was there Draco spent most of his Tuesday morning, with a cup of coffee long cooled from breakfast. And, it was there that he received immediate notice that his father was waiting for him in the office of the Headmistress. He downed the dregs of his cold coffee, regretting it immediately with a grimace, then followed Snape briskly from the Great Hall.

"Draco," he was greeted coldly by his father

"Father," he nodded back formally.

Of course, Umbridge began to titter about, giggling and clearing her throat, offering them all tea-probably laced with something suspicious. They sat and talked briefly. Lucius asked about how things were going as the new Head, assuring her that the Governors were glad for a change in the administration. Umbridge made no indication that anything was less than divine under her rule, making no mention of enchanted pyrotechnics or unruly professors. She made sure to mention how helpful Draco and Arabella were being in their new leadership roles in the Inquisitorial Squad, which Draco appreciated more than the strange toad-like woman would ever know.

"Where is Miss Riddle?" Umbridge asked, suddenly aware that the young lady was missing. "Surely she will want to see you, Lucius."

"Of course," Draco's father responded, not bothering to correct Umbridge's failed assumption, as both he and Draco knew, Arabella would definitely _not_ want to see Lucius. "I wanted to surprise her."

Umbridge giggled and clapped her hands, "How wonderful! What a brilliant idea. She'll be so pleased."

"In fact, I was wondering if I could take both the children to Hogsmeade for lunch," Lucius said sweetly, with the smoldering smile of the Malfoy men.

"Why of course!" Umbridge exclaimed, delighted more than any of the three actually going to lunch would be, "That's a wonderful idea."

"And then perhaps we could meet again to discuss the contents of our last correspondence," Lucius said cryptically.

Umbridge's face lit up, "Oh yes, of course! Severus and I were just discussing that earlier, weren't we? A surprise as well, I presume?"

"You presume correctly," Lucius nodded, standing and taking his leave with many thanks and gracious bows.

She clapped her hands and smiled giddily, causing Draco's heart to sink.

Draco followed his father out while Snape closed the door behind them when they exited. The three men made their way back to the Great Hall, where Arabella was no doubt studying, having no idea what she was in for for the day.

"What kind of surprise was she referring to, Father?" Draco dared to ask as they made their way down the empty halls.

"You'll understand soon enough, Draco."

When they arrived at the Great Hall, many of the Slytherins saw Lucius arrive, and dutifully straightened their backs and dug into their studies. The rest of the tables were fairly oblivious, especially that of Gryffindor. Draco spotted Arabella easily enough. She hadn't moved from her study spot beside the Golden Scarhead and across from the Golden Know-it-All. She had a large piece of parchment in front of her, which she was annotating with a quill. Three different ink pots, all of different colors lay before her, and a second smaller piece of parchment lay between her and Potter. As they entered, she cast a glance at the paper Potter was writing on, dissolving momentarily into giggles.

Lucius and Snape approached the table quietly, watching the Dark Lord's daughter carefully. Some of the other students had noticed Lucius' arrival, but the whispering remained mostly contained from group to group.

Draco could finally make out what Ari was doing-she was diagramming the Goblin Wars, complete with time line of events and various important family trees and fun facts. But on the little slip of paper between her and Potter were several squiggles, like notes, including what looked like a stick-figured man hanging from a gallows with random letters and empty dashed lines underneath.

"You forgot a 'K', Harry," whispered Arabella fiercely. "You must have."

"No, I didn't. You just haven't guessed it yet."

"Then you've made up a word!" she said, pointing to a particular dashed line that was empty.

"Oh, Merlin! You're right."

"No Hang-Man for me!" Arabella smacked him playfully across the shoulder as he filled in the appropriate letter. "It's 'Hinkypunk!'"

Arabella looked up at Granger, triumphantly, whose face betrayed something more troublesome. Arabella whirled around to greet Draco, Lucius and Snape, standing expectantly before her disheveled form.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet and tucking her loose hair behind hear ear. "What are you doing here?"

"I was in town for a Governor's meeting and thought I'd come to the castle to _surprise_ you and Draco with a lunch out in Hogsmeade."

Arabella's mouth simply formed an "Oh!", though not a word was uttered.

"Won't that be a lovely study break, Ari?" Draco prompted.

"Yes! Thank you. I was just..." she looked back at her parchment, "...Reviewing the Goblin Wars..."

"And playing Muggle games? Wearing Muggle clothes?" Lucius raised his eyebrows and tapped his finger against his walking stick.

"Why don't I go change for lunch?" Arabella said in a rush.

She received a stern look from Lucius with no response, so Draco nodded at her silently, and she scurried off towards Gryffindor Tower, leaving her things behind.

"She doesn't have to listen to you," Potter stood from his seat to confront Lucius.

"Oh?" Lucius raised his eyebrows. "Then who _does _she have to listen to? She's not of age yet, and I believe I find myself in the unique role of her guardian and parent."

"That doesn't mean you have her best interests at heart," came Granger's voice, quite surprisingly from across the table.

"I believe you are mistaken, not that it matters, coming from a Mudblood."

"Return to your studies, Mr. Potter, Miss Granger " Professor Snape warned, diffusing the situation before it could get more out-of-hand.

The three men walked away, but as they went, Draco sent a backwards glance toward the three Gryffindors they'd left behind. Potter was fuming, his fists balled at his sides, glaring at them as they went. Granger was feverishly whispering at him, probably to calm down, but he wasn't listening. Draco tried to put the image of a furious Potter in the back of his mind, looking forward to lunch off-campus, but he found the task more difficult than usual.

They waited for Arabella in the Entrance Hall. Ten minutes of listening to Snape and Lucius talk business and school politics passed before she reappeared. When she did, she came barreling around the corner, cheeks flushed, robes flying, only to halt when she saw Lucius, Snape and Draco standing there. Luckily, only Draco saw her stop to compose herself before she walked quietly down the stairs in an almost-gracefully composed manner. Lucius turned when he noticed that Draco had looked up, nodding appreciatively at Arabella's change in attire.

Snape led them down the long path to the gates of Hogwarts. As they approached he began the incantations to allow them to pass through the entrance. He bid them goodbye, promising to meet them back there in an hour and a half. Arabella shot him a pleading gaze, as if to indicate her sadness that she be left alone with the Malfoy men.

Arabella look askance at Draco when he offered her his arm, "Just take it. You'll thank me later," he whispered to her. She did as he said, most likely hoping they would simply survive the lunch with Lucius.

When Lucius looked at them, he nodded approvingly at the arrangement.

_ Well, that's a start, _Draco thought to himself.

"How are your studies progressing?" Lucius asked as they walked briskly down to Hogsmeade.

"Fine," Arabella responded, too quickly.

Lucius looked at her expectantly.

She sighed and elaborated, "Transfiguration is hard, Potions is fairly easy but really interesting, and Defense Against the Dark Arts is..."

"Really boring," Draco finished for her.

She laughed, drawing strange looks from Lucius.

"Sorry," she immediately stopped laughing, "I was going to try to be nice about it, but Draco took the words right out of my mouth."

Draco smirked in response.

"And your marks?" Lucius asked.

"Still the highest," Draco said, not missing a beat. He got that question a lot.

When they arrived in Hogsmeade, Lucius led them to the one fancy restaurant in town. A hostess immediately led them to a table, as the restaurant was mostly empty, handing them the thick menus and identifying the specials before leaving them to their perusing. It was painfully silent as they read their menus. Arabella kept throwing glances at him behind hers, which he wasn't sure how to respond to. Was she looking for guidance or was there something on his face? Or, perhaps she finally found him as devilishly handsome all all of the other girls did at Hogwarts...perhpas that was too much to ask. Lucius was the first to put his menu down, deciding his meal easily. Arabella had to send the waiter away twice before she was finally read to order.

"Well, then," sighed Lucius after the waiter had left, "Instead of reporting to Severus this week, you two will report to me."

Arabella looked taken aback, turning directly to Draco.

"Arabella?" Lucius prompted.

"I'm afraid there's not much to report," Arabella stated simply.

"Oh?" Lucius acted surprised, "Really?"

"Yes, really."

"Nothing of Potter?"

"No..."

"Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred in the last few weeks?"

"Not to my knowledge," Arabella furrowed her eyebrows in irritation and discouragement at the extended questioning.

"Potter hasn't done anything outside of going to classes, sleeping and eating?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"No sneaking around the castle? No detentions? No nightmares?"

Arabella's face quickly paled.

"I'm sure everyone has nightmares every once in a while," Arabella stuttered a little.

"No recurring nightmares?" Lucius prompted even further.

Arabella's face instantly flushed. It was obvious Lucius knew about something that she wasn't confessing to anyone.

"Nothing unusual," Arabella said between her clenched teeth.

"Ah," Lucius said, nodding in understanding, as if this was illuminating some small fact for him. "And is it not your task to report directly to Severus on anything Potter does or says outside of class?"

"I don't see how any of this is my business, let alone yours," Arabella said angrily.

"Did your father not give you express instructions to report on Potter or not?" Lucius demanded. "Yes or no?"

"Yes."

"And are you doing so?"

Arabella didn't answer, instead choosing to down the rest of her tea in one gulp.

"As I thought," Lucius said quietly.

Lucius then turned to his son, "And you, Draco? What's your report?"

"Well, Father," Draco began, not quite knowing what he would say, "Arabella has been performing her duties as co-leader of the Inquisitorial Squad, although she occasionally misses a meeting or patrolling round. She has been consistent about her study groups with the usual friends, and attends her weekly study date with me..."

"So you have nothing of interest to report?" Lucius interrupted.

"Someone exploded a box of enchanted fireworks in the hallways the other day," Draco offered.

Arabella gave a coy smile, trying not to laugh.

"And yet you don't know who? Or why?"

"No, sir," Draco said.

"Oh surely you know _why_!" Arabella cut in.

Lucius looked at her sharply, "And do you know who did this?"

Arabella was quick to back up, "Now I didn't say that. I simply stated that Malf-Draco knows very well _why_ they-or he-or she-or whoever...did it."

"And why is that?" Draco asked, now irritated that it was apparently _so_ obvious.

"Because of Professor Umbridge becoming Headmistress."

"And why would that cause someone to set fireworks off?" Lucius asked.

"Because the students hate her," Arabella said, seeming a little exasperated at having to explain this. "I mean, the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and Gryffindors really dislike her. And Professor McGonagall should have taken the role of Headmistress after Dumbledore left, not Umbridge. So someone retaliated."

"And why do the students dislike her?" Lucius prompted further.

Arabella rolled her eyes and sighed, "Her class is boring, her reign tyrannical and her detentions completely unethical."

"Despite what the various _children_ might think, the Governors believe Dolores Umbridge is doing a fine job," Lucius stated strongly. "And you will do well to remember that, and where your place is."

Arabella crossed her arms with a humph, "Yes, sir."

"And you will sit up straight, like a Pureblood witch, not slouch like a mongrel," Lucius corrected her.

Their food arrived, and the conversation turned to Quidditch and exams and what Narcissa was doing with the curtains in the parlor. Lucius at one point decided he'd shut his mouth for a change and simply listened to Arabella and Draco converse for a while. This made Draco exceedingly nervous, since his father was notorious for believing children should be seen and not heard. However, he was calmed by the easy conversation he carried on with Arabella with little to no pretense.

When at last dessert was finished and the conversation winding down, Lucius called the conversation back.

"I'm afraid the Dark Lord will be very disappointed with you two," he began. "Neither of you have taken on your designated tasks with the seriousness and dedication he expects."

He paused just long enough to make Arabella squirm in her chair. Draco had had many years of practice dealing with his father's veiled insults and manipulative disappointment.

"I wonder, Arabella, if you are unable or unwilling to perform your duty, why should you remain in Gryffindor? Perhaps, in Slytherin, you would refrain from consorting with the likes of Potter, and make it asier for Draco to keep an eye on you."

Arabella's eyes snapped up, wide and bright, "Wait, what? No!"

So _this_ was the surprise his father had in store, Draco pondered to himself. Surprise, indeed.

"You can't do that!" she said, her voice rising ever so slightly.

Lucius cocked an eyebrow, "Oh, can't I?"

Arabella's eyes began to well up with tears, and though she held them back with considerable strength, Lucius Malfoy still noticed.

"You will compose yourself, Arabella."

She threw down her napkin, standing from the table, with a brief "excuse me," before rushing toward the restroom, her hair hiding her face from curious on-lookers.

"Follow her," Lucius instructed his son, tight-lipped and irritated.

"I can't go into the girl's lav," Draco argued.

"Then stand outside the door. Do whatever you must, just make sure she doesn't leave."

Draco stood and followed in Arabella's proverbial wake. He stood outside the women's restroom for a little bit. When a woman finally exited, he grabbed her attention.

"Excuse me? Is there anyone still in the restroom?"

She looked at him strangely.

"I'm looking for my...sister," he finally settled on a relation that would explain why he was looking for her in a not-creepy-stalker-boyfriend way.

"Oh, yes. A young blond girl? She seemed quite distressed. She's the only one in there, dear. Would you like me to grab her?"

"No, no, that's okay," Draco said, smiling gently. "I was just worried about her and wanted to check on her."

"Of course," the woman smiled kindly at him, then departed to her table.

When no one was looking, Draco crept into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He didn't really want anyone at the nice restaurant to catch him in the wrong restroom.

"Arabella?" he called.

There came a hiccup and gasp from around the corner. She appeared, looking astonished to see him, "You can't be in here!"

"Well, obviously I can, because I am."

"Don't start, Malfoy. I can't..." she broke off.

"I'm sorry, love," Draco said.

In one swift movement, Draco opened his arms and Arabella leaned into him, choking down sobs as her tears wet the front of his shirt. Before he had a chance to savor the moment, she pulled away, patting at the now damp spot on his shirt, just above and to the left of his heart.

"I'm ruining your shirt," she said, sniffling.

"I wouldn't worry about that," he replied with a grin.

"And don't call me 'love.'"

She knew just how to ruin a moment, Draco thought to himself. He sighed heavily, guiding her towards the sinks

"Now, let's get you cleaned up and back out at lunch."

Draco waited while Arabella splashed water on her face and used one of the gratuitous combs supplied by the restaurant to smooth down her hair. She looked almost back to normal, though her eyes were still rimmed in red. Arabella hid Draco behind the door as she unlocked the bathroom door and allowed the women who were waiting to come through, offering no explanation as to why the door was locked, despite their disapproving glances. When they were well out of sight, she shuffled him out the door, not without a sad smile at the ludicrous nature of their situation.

When they arrived back at the lunch table, the bill had been paid and their tea refilled.

"Are you quite finished?" Lucius asked with disdain.

"For now," Arabella said, taking a long sip of her tea.

"Very well. Shall we return to the castle? Severus will be waiting for us, and I believe we have one more meeting to attend to," Lucius stood to leave, donning his traveling cloak as he waited for Arabella to rise reluctantly from her seat. She must have known, as Draco did, that any meeting that followed that conversation was one to be dreaded, not desired. They walked in silence until they had nearly reached the gates, where Snape would allow them entrance to the school grounds. Lucius stopped abruptly, turning to face Arabella.

"You will conduct yourself with the decorum expected of a witch of your station," Lucius instructed with a severe tone. "I will not have you embarrassing the family, or indicating that you are anything less than ecstatic at this new arrangement."

Arabella look at her shoes.

"Do I make myself abundantly clear?"

Arabella looked up at him with an expression that matched the disdain of his voice earlier at the restaurant, "Yes, sir."

"Very good," he turned and led the way to the gates, which were opened seamlessly by Snape for their arrival.

Draco eyed Arabella nervously as they made their way up to the castle. She kept her eyes to the ground, only once betraying her inner emotions when she lifted her hand to hurriedly wipe away a tear. He tried to approach her, but she steered clear of him as best she could. When they arrived outside Umbridge's door, Lucius stopped to straighten Draco's tie and clear a scuff from Arabella's shoe. He knocked heartily on the door and opened it with a silent wave of his wand when Umbridge called for them to enter.

They had barely made it through the door when Umbridge leapt from her seat like a giddy schoolgirl and sprang forward to greet Arabella, "You've heard the news, then? You must be so excited!"

"Ecstatic!" Arabella somehow managed to exclaim without sounding completely artificial, though Draco noticed her smile was shallow and forced.

"Yes, of course! What with you and Mr. Malfoy being so close," she looked at Draco fondly. "And Severus has been speaking of this for _ages._"

Draco hadn't realized Snape had been a part of this conversation at all, despite the previous mention of his name at the earlier meeting with Umbridge. But, of course, it made sense. He was at Hogwarts as a liaison for the Dark Lord, surely he would be making the first impact on such important issues. Lucius would then follow with his power over the Board of Governors. Lucius responded to Umbridge's inquiry about lunch, but Draco wasn't listening. He was watching intently from the corner of his eye as Arabella sent a wretchedly betrayed look toward Snape. Snape didn't even bother to look back at her. Draco suspected the professor couldn't, knowing how he'd hurt one of his favorite students. But his twisted expression told it's own story. For as cold-hearted as Snape could be, he'd always had a soft spot for Bella No-Name and her perfect Potions-making skills. He'd mentored her as he would any Slytherin student, and he knew that she looked to him for protection in all things regarding the Dark Lord and the Malfoy family. Draco didn't know if he was enraptured by their soundless conversation, given in expressions and body language, or if he felt he should leave the room to allow them some privacy.

"Well, shall we discuss?" Umbridge motioned for them all to sit.

"I wasn't aware there was anything left _to_ discuss," Lucius replied, looking to Snape.

"Everything is prepared," Snape responded with a nod.

"Splendid!" Umbridge said, clapping her hands giddily.

"What do you mean everything is prepared?" Arabella asked softly from where she sat, her hands clasped neatly in her lap, her knuckles white and her face quickly paling to match the color.

Snape finally turned to look at his student, his face wiped clean of emotion, "A bed in the girl's fifth year dormitory in the House of Slytherin has been cleared of all of Miss Parkinson's spare clothing and made with fresh linens. Your schedule has been re-worked so that you will miss no classes. Narcissa already ordered your new uniforms, as well as several accessories she thought might match, so I've been told, and they have all been put away in your new wardrobe."

With each sentence, more color (if at all possible) drained out of Arabella's face, until her pallor rivaled that of the Grey Lady. Draco was even a little flabbergasted at how well-planned this was. His mother was even in on this elaborate plan. He could just imagine her running out to buy hair ribbons and earrings for Arabella to match her new green and silver Slytherin tie.

There came an unexpected knock on the door. The door opened without pause to reveal a very serious looking Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, I apologize, I didn't realize you had guests, Dolores," she began.

Draco could have sworn McGonagall shared a glance with Snape in which she looked neither apologetic nor surprised to see them gathered there.

"I don't mean to intrude," McGonagall began, entering the room and shutting the office door behind her, despite the lack of invitation, "but is everything alright? If something regarding Miss Bella is occurring, surely I, as her Head of House, should be present."

"It's Miss Riddle," Lucius corrected without pause.

McGonagall simply regarded him severely from over her spectacles. "It has been Miss Bella for the past four years, and will continue to be so, perhaps until she is married."

Luckily, on this subject, Lucius kept his mouth shut.

"Hem. Hem. I don't believe your presence is required, Minerva, seeing as we have one Head of House, one School Governor, _and_ the Headmistress-slash-High-Inquisitor, that would be _myself_, present. Thank you for your concern," Umbridge said, smiling sweetly.

Umbridge blinked several times expectantly. McGonagall didn't back down.

"Is everything alright, Miss Bella?" McGonagall asked.

"Everything is perfectly under control, thank you," Lucius spoke over Ari's attempt to answer. Lucius sent his young ward a warning glance, obviously not wanting her to speak up.

"I don't believe I was asking you, Lucius," McGonagall said. "I would like to ensure that Miss Bella—"

"-It's Miss Riddle!"

"-is comfortable and content in the present situation. Whatever that _situation_ may be..."

McGonagall shared another lengthy gaze with Snape, who cleared his throat.

"They're trying to resort me into Slytherin!" Arabella finally burst out.

"_Silence!_" Lucius hissed at her beneath his breath. Fortunately the other adults didn't hear him.

"Trying? I very well think we have already established your resorting!" Umbridge stated. "So, you see, Minerva, you're no longer needed here."

"I very well think I am!" said McGonagall, her eyes aflame. "You cannot _resort_ a student, Dolores! It has never been done! Not in the history of Hogwarts!"

"Well, there is a time for everything, Minerva," Dolores responded, her sickly sweet voice dripping with joy for her control. "Just as there has never been a High Inquisitor!"

"I will not allow this! Bella was sorted into my house for a reason. The Sorting Hat saw fit for her education to begin and _end _in Gryffindor."

"It has already been done," Lucius stated, looking to Snape.

"I have procured her new schedule, a bed in her new dormitory, and her personal effects..." Snape began.

"A new schedule, Severus? You would have your star Potions pupil memorize and begin a new schedule? Right before her O.W.L.s? With new classmates, new times and days for everything! Preposterous! And what of her place on the Quidditch team?"

For all her love of things practical and education-based, Minerva McGonagall would not stand for tampering with her beloved Quidditch team.

"Have any of you even _asked_ Bella if she would like to be resorted or not?"

"Of course we have!" Umbridge said huffily, her hands immediately upon her hips in indignation. "Why! Why _wouldn't_ she wanted to be resorted?"

McGonagall rolled her eyes, sighing heavily, "If not for the very reasons I just outlined, perhaps because she does not know the Slytherin girls well? Perhaps she is happy in Gryffindor?"

Umbridge, Lucius, and Snape just looked at McGonagall as if this was a preposterous idea. Draco himself couldn't imagine being happy in Gryffindor, but then, he hadn't lived there for four years.

"It didn't occur to you to check with her _before_ you went and made plans for her future?"

"It matters little what she desires," Lucius responded immediately. "She is a child, and therefore has no idea what is best for her. I, as her guardian—"

"—A guardian who has known her less than a year, I might add! I have known her these four she has been in my house!" McGonagall said, her voice rising to an unnatural pitch and volume.

"—yet I am still her guardian! You are nothing but her teacher!" Lucius countered.

There was an outbreak of yelling, as the "grown-ups" all began talking over one another. Arabella had gone pale and sunk down into her chair, her hands over her face. Draco sat beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders, using his other hand to try and pull her hand away from her face.

They sat there in silence as the grown-ups continued to argue. Snape was the first to notice their absence from the conversation. He became quiet, and looked sympathetically on Draco, as Ari still had her face covered. McGonagall then noticed Snape, turning to look at her student. She sighed heavily, which Lucius noticed. Then all were silent, except for Umbridge, who kept prattling on until McGonagall had to softly say her name, so that she, too, would quiet.

"Here we are, all arguing our own opinions, and even I haven't yet asked you, Miss Bella: what would _you_ like to do?"

Arabella looked up finally, sniffing and wiping her eyes. Lucius looked upon her tears with disdain, muttering of insolence under his breath. Ari stood, straightening her robes, and inhaling deeply before she spoke.

"I really appreciate that all of you are so interested in my well-being. I've never been so fortunate before."

Draco cringed at her obvious reference to her days as an orphan, when the Malfoys thought she was nothing but a Mudblood.

"As _ecstatic_ as I am at the possibility of being resorted, I think I have to agree with Professor McGonagall. I don't think the stresses of a new House would serve me well just before my O.W.L.s. Perhaps next year, at the beginning of the year, I can join Slytherin, when the pressures of studies and Quidditch and exams haven't begun already."

"But, surely, having Draco closer would relieve those pressures," said Umbridge, a little too condescendingly.

"Or only add to them..." Draco heard McGonagall mutter, to which Ari's face betrayed a smile.

"Perhaps, if I may," Snape interjected, "Arabella has always been a hard working student, and her own worst critic. If she fears her O.W.L. scores will suffer from this sudden change, then we best delay it until the beginning of her Sixth Year, lest she resent us for any imperfect scores she may—however unlikely—receive."

It was then agreed upon, although reluctantly on Lucius' part, to pick up this conversation again at the end of the year or beginning of the next, and to allow Arabella to continue as a Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall ushered her from the room, promising to escort her back to the Gryffindor Common Room. When Lucius tried to protest, McGonagall insisted that they had "many things to talk about."

Umbridge was quite beside herself and very disappointed that Snape had relented in their "brilliant plan" after all their preparations. At last, with many thanks and some apologies, they departed from the High Inquisitor's office. Draco followed Lucius and Snape as they made their way to the entrance hall.

"Your master will not be happy with the outcome of this meeting," Lucius growled at Snape.

"I'm sure he won't," Snape drawled.

"He was counting on Arabella being in Slytherin."

"I'm sure he was."

"Draco, you will have to double your efforts in keeping tabs on Arabella."

"Yes, Father," Draco responded.

Suddenly, Lucius rounded on Snape: "Did you call for Minerva? Were you planning all along for this arrangement to fail?"

"How _dare_ you accuse me of such a thing?" said Snape, responding in equal anger. "You know I am loyal to the Dark Lord. How can you question that?!"

"We had a plan! It would have worked, too, if you hadn't meddled and taken Arabella's side!"

"How is it that I took her side when she was positively _ecstatic_ to be resorted?"

It was as if Snape and Arabella had made a secret pact to throw Lucius' choice words back in his face as many times as possible by the end of the day.

"You know very well, Severus, that she was nothing of the sort."

"So you confess you, like her father, used means of coercion to make her say what you pleased," Snape said accusingly. "No wonder she doesn't trust you!"

"I was following the wishes and orders of the Dark Lord!" Lucius spat.

"And I was looking out for the best interests of the Dark Lord's only daughter-something that, whether he knows it or not, is in fact in line with his deepest wishes and most fervent orders."

Lucius immediately backed down and away.

"I will be sure to convey this message to him when I return."

"I'll convey my own message to him via Owl," Snape corrected.

The two men had obviously forgotten Draco was even there, for they made their way quickly down the front steps of the castle. Draco didn't bother to follow or ask for a proper goodbye from his own father. Instead, he turned, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and began to wander around the castle. He wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, but he wasn't quite ready to go back to the Slytherin common room alone that night.

Draco thought to himself as he looked over the great landscape of the Hogwarts grounds from the Astronomy Tower: _how was it possible that things could get even more complicated than they already were?_

_AN: Oh, Draco, how little you know! So many complex things await!_

_I would greatly appreciate reviews, as I'm feeling a little self-conscious about this story. Let me know what you think, please offer any suggestions or thoughts! _


	20. Chapter 20

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. In order to keep flow with the canon, **direct quotes are taken from the United States version of ****Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.**** (pp 650-700). ****Those words, where they appear, are not mine, they are JK Rowling's. **

_AN: Please read the disclaimer! I do take direct quotes—even paragraphs—from the book to keep the flow and story going. Those words are not mine, they are JK Rowling's! Although, I do try to spice it up a bit with Draco's interpretation. :) Please read and review!_

**XX. More Mayhem**

The weather grew breezier, brighter, and warmer as the holidays passed, but all of the fifth and seventh years were trapped inside, traipsing back and forth to the library. As though to underline the importance of their upcoming examinations, a batch of pamphlets, leaflets, and notices concerning various Wizarding careers appeared on the tables in the Slytherin Common Room shortly before the end of the holidays, along with yet another notice on the board, which read:

** CAREER ADVICE**

** All fifth years will be required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House during the first week of the Summer term, in which they will be given the opportunity to discuss their future careers. Times of individual appointments are listed below.**

Draco's meeting with Snape was on Monday during their regular "reporting" meetings, just after his first afternoon class. He decided to leaf through the pamphlets later, probably Sunday night, since he didn't think any of the suggested careers would fancy him anyway. It wasn't like he _needed_ to worry about a job. The Malfoy fortune would be more than enough to get him through his lifetime, and Draco was positive his father wouldn't allow him to enter into any career field besides the family business.

To be expected, Ari didn't show up on the day of their planned date on Easter Eve. Draco didn't bother to go looking for her or to approach her in the Great Hall. On Easter Sunday, she was late to the large Easter brunch that was served in the Great Hall during the regular lunch hour. Her friends had all gathered at the table, saving her a spot, indicated by the obvious gap in the table beside Potter. When she finally arrived, she was dressed in summer dress robes in the color of robins egg blue with matching ribbon wrapped around the base of her straw sun hat. She was with Neville Longbottom, and they were laughing and singing. They each carried a stick with a ribbon attached the end, which they waved every so often as they sang.

"I didn't realize Arabella went to church," Blaise interrupted Draco's thoughts when he noticed where his friend's gaze was lingering.

"Church?" Draco mused to himself.

"Yeah, Dumbledore has always allowed students to go down to the Hogsmeade church for Christmas and Easter services, apparently Umbridge has allowed it to continue..."

Draco finally turned back to Blaise after watching Arabella take her seat beside Harry Potter, "Why didn't I know about this?"

Blaise rolled his eyes at Draco, "Probably because you never cared to know. It's not like they advertise it. They just allow those who really care enough to ask."

"But I didn't even know she was leaving the castle. Did anyone know?"

"Yeah, I think Professor Sprout goes with them," Blaise said, stuffing his face with cinnamon roll.

"Yeah, but does Snape know?" he looked up to the main table.

Indeed, Professor Sprout was just now taking her seat, removing a grass-green bonnet from her head as she did so. Snape scanned the crowd of students, his eyes falling first on Arabella and then going straight to Draco. He nodded slightly, and turned away to continue a conversation with Professor Sinistra. Draco sighed and returned to his eggs and coffee, determined to ask Snape about it during their meeting.

Monday brought the return of classes and the commencement of Summer Term. If at all possible, classes were even more ghastly than usual as the professors began cramming as much information and review into their lessons as possible before the inevitable arrival of the O.W.L.s at the end of the term.

Potions brought Draco's first opportunity to spy on Arabella since the resorting incident. She arrived at class, but pointedly ignored both Draco and Snape. In turn, it seemed, Snape was bent on ignoring Potter, who he usually tormented with comments of his inferior potion-making abilities. All in all, it was a very strange lesson. They made Invigoration Draught, which Draco found easy and too straight-forward to concentrate his full attention upon. When at last the lesson ended, Draco scooped up some of his potion into a flask, corked it and took it to Snape's desk for marking, certain that he would obtain nothing less than an O. When Draco arrived at Snape's desk, he noticed several flasks already corked and labeled. Arabella's was prominently first, and right next to it was Potter's. Draco couldn't help himself, he flicked his wrist ever-so-slightly to replace Potter's flask with his own, sending the small glass vial careening to the floor, where it promptly shattered.

Snape looked up to see the mess on the floor, while Potter whirled around, catching Draco's eye and glaring menacingly. With a wave of his wand, Snape cleared the mess.

"Whoops," he said softly. "Another zero, then, Potter..."

Potter turned away in anger, striding to his cauldron as if to fill another flask to turn in, when a look of horror spread across his face.

"I'm sorry!" said Granger with her hands over her mouth. "I'm really sorry, Harry, I thought you'd finished so I cleared up!"

Potter dashed from the room without a backward glance, while Granger packed her bag with shoulders sagging and head hung low. Arabella attempted to comfort her friend, shooting daggers from her eyes at Draco whenever she could.

"That was really low," she said after catching up to him after class. "Even for you, Malfoy."

Before he could answer with a sneer or snide remark, she had sped away. He still didn't think he'd ever stop tormenting Potter...it was just too easy.

After lunch and his first afternoon class, Draco made his way back to the dungeons for his career meeting with Snape. Draco settled back into his seat in front of Snape's desk, expecting the usual questions regarding Arabella. Much to his surprise, his Head of House got right down to business of another sort:

"Have you given any thought to your career after Hogwarts, Draco?"

Draco spluttered, "I—uh, uh—no, sir?"

Snape served him with a look of utter disgrace from over his hooked nose.

"I mean, I just assumed I'd do what my father does," Draco amended.

"Assumed?" Snape drawled. "And is that what you _want_ to do?"

"I assumed that I had no choice in the matter."

Snape sat back in his chair with a grunt, crossing his arms before him. "With the war, that very well may be. And how well acquainted are you with what your father does?"

"What is there to know? My father is a member of the pure-blood wizard landed aristocracy. He manages the land he rents out, and of course the apothecary—that's been in the family for ages..."

Snape didn't seem pleased with Draco's answer.

"I don't know when your father planned on teaching you how to manage the estate, or telling you about his other...business ventures, but it's about time he does. I'll speak to him—"

"—No! Sir, I'd much rather approach my father myself, show him I'm interested. I'm sure he's just had a lot on his mind what with the Da—Arabella joining the family and all."

Snape looked at Draco critically, and Draco suddenly had the feeling he was being sized up by his professor.

"Very well, Draco. But now we should discuss your...other options."

"Other options?" Draco was baffled. Surely there were no other options.

Snape sighed, rolling his eyes, "Should everything that your father have planned fail, should the Malfoy fortune be lost, what would you do to earn a living?"

"How could the Malfoy fortune possibly be lost?" Draco laughed at the ridiculousness of the suggestion.

Snape gripped the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. He flicked his wand toward the door, locking it and putting up a silencing charm.

"We are about to have a _hypothetical_ conversation, Draco. One that can never leave these walls. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"You must never mention this conversation to _anyone__. _Not Blaise, not your father, not Arabella—not even in passing."

"Yes, sir."

"And we are having this conversation for your benefit, Draco. Because I don't think you comprehend what's at stake now."

"Yes, sir."

"_Hypothetically speaking_, if your father's true allegiances were brought to light in front of the _current_ Ministry of Magic, and he was unable to convince them he'd been placed under the Imperius Curse like the last time, he would be stripped of his title and land."

Snape looked at Draco intently, waiting for these words to sink in.

"Your father would be in jail. His assets would be seized. There would be no income for you and your mother to live on, and no witch or wizard would be willing or able to take you in."

Draco didn't really like the sound of this hypothetical world.

"What would you do then, Draco?"

"I—I—don't know," he managed, his voice barely a whisper.

"Pretend I didn't just traumatize you by bringing to light all the things you've never thought about."

"I've honestly never thought about it before, sir."

"You've never thought about what you'd be when you grew up, Draco?"

"I thought I'd always be my father..."

Draco felt very much like a child in that moment. Caught in his idiotic belief that the idyllic fantasy of life he'd had since birth might actually come to pass.

Snape sighed, "Of course you did."

"I didn't even bother to look at the pamphlets," Draco admitted.

"Of course not," Snape was being rather gentle with him, and Draco knew it. "What about Potions, Draco? Have you thought of making a career out of your Potions work? You're very good at it."

"I don't want to be a teacher," Draco began.

"There are many more uses for a Potions master than teaching, Draco. Here," Snape handed him a few pamphlets, "these are career ideas that I think you'd be suited for. You'll need top marks in Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Charms, perhaps even Herbology for some of those positions. I expect no less from you going into your O.W.L.s, Draco."

"Thank you, sir."

There was a long pause, as Draco tucked the pamphlets into the inner pocket of his robes. Feeling like a child was one thing, but showing it was another. He wasn't going to let any of his mates see him in class with those pamphlets lying about. Plus, this was a contingency plan. With all likelihood, he'd never even need a traditional job.

"I assume you have no update on Arabella for me," said Snape glibly.

"She's still not talking to me," Draco said, "except to say smashing Potter's Potion flask was low, even for me."

"Yes, well, I'm not sure she's recovered from the resorting excitement."

"Excitement. That's one way to put it. She didn't show up for our date on Saturday," said Draco. "Did you know that she was going to church on Sunday?"

"Yes," said Snape nonchalantly. "She's always gone for Christmas and Easter services. I didn't think it would be any different this year."

"She didn't mention it to me..."

"I didn't expect she would. She doesn't mention it to anyone, really."

"Shouldn't she have some sort of escort? She shouldn't be leaving the castle alone."

"She wasn't alone, Draco. She was with Professor Sprout and various other students. I believe Hagrid escorted them down and back as well, just to be sure."

"Does her father know about this?"

"I can't say one way or the other. And I doubt it would matter," Snape answered. "Now, let it go. She's fine."

"Yes sir."

"Now, hurry along to Herbology. If you're late, merely mention this meeting with me to Professor Sprout."

"Yes, sir, thank you."

After Herbology, Draco headed back up to the castle with Blaise and Theo. He'd been distracted all through class, thinking about what Snape had said about his career choices. They had just entered the Entrance Hall from the greenhouses when there was a great bang from above.

"What was _that?_" Blaise exclaimed, his eyes growing wide in surprise.

"I don't know..." Draco murmured. Without thinking much on it, he hitched his bag on his shoulder, taking the stairs two by two until he reached the source: someone had turned the fifth floor of the east wing into a swamp! Several students, ones who had obviously been in the hall when it occurred, were trying to stand up after being knocked to the floor. Draco immediately saw a Ravenclaw needing help and went to help her stand. Like many others, she was covered in water and weeds. Not a moment later, Umbridge came barreling down the hallway. Surprisingly, Arabella was following after, her Inquisitorial badge pinned smartly to her robes, other I.S. Members in tow. Umbridge began asking questions of everybody present, while Prefects began escorting the drenched students down to the hospital wing to be looked over by Madam Pomfrey.

"Who did this?" Umbridge squealed, her pink robes only adding to the image of an angry pig. "Someone must have seen the perpetrator!"

While Umbridge continued ranting and raving, Draco made his way quietly over to Arabella.

"Fancy seeing you here," he whispered.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Arabella growled at him.

"Touchy, touchy...any idea who pulled this stunt?" he eyed her curiously, waiting for a reaction that would give her away.

"An idea," she admitted with a sly smile, much to his surprise. "Brilliant bit of magic!"

Filch came wheezing around the corner with a bucket and mop in hand, causing many a student to dissolve into giggles. There was no way such rudimentary tools would even put a dent in the mess that the prankster had created. Umbridge, with a few members of the Inquisitorial Squad vainly trying to help, attempted to remove the swamp to no avail. The color of her complexion was beginning to match the color of her robes when a clash and a snicker could be heard from a classroom down the hall.

"Who is that?" Umbridge yelled, wielding her wand like a sword and strutting down the corridor.

Two fiery red-heads darted out of the classroom, running towards the Great Hall.

"Weasleys!" Umbridge bellowed, running after them, shouting directions to her Inquisitorial Squad members on how to cut them off at the Entrance Hall.

Ten minutes later, students, teachers and ghosts were all standing around the walls of the entrance hall in a great ring. Fred and George Weasley were standing in the middle with the unmistakeable look of two people who had just been cornered.

"So!" said Umbridge triumphantly, as she stood a few stairs in front of the twins, once more looking down upon her prey. "So...you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"Pretty amusing, yeah," said one of the twins—Draco could never keep them apart—looking back up at her without the slightest sign of fear.

Flich elbowed his way closer to Umbridge, almost crying with happiness.

"I've got the form, Headmistress," he said hoarsely, waving a piece of parchment in front of her face. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting...Oh, let me do it now..."

"Very good, Argus," she said. "You two," she went on, gazing down at the Weasley twins, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

"You know what?" said the same twin. "I don't think we are."

He turned to his twin.

"George," said he, now known to be Fred, "I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," said George lightly.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" asked Fred.

"Definitely," said George.

And before Umbridge could say another word, they raised their wands and together, "_Accio Brooms!_"

There was a loud crash somewhere in the distance—Fred and George's broomsticks, one still trailing the heavy chain and iron peg with which Umbridge had fastened them to the wall, were hurtling along the corridor toward their owners. They turned left, streaked down the stairs, and stopped sharply in front of the twins, the chain clattering loudly on the flagged stone floor.

"We won't be seeing you," Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," said George, mounting his own.

Fred looked around at the assembled students, and at the silent watchful crowd.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley—Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," he said in a loud voice. "Our new premises!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. Draco and several of the others lurched forward, but Fred and George had already kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

And Peeves, whom Draco had never seen take an order from a student—or anyone else, really—before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as the Weasley twins wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

"Mrs. Weasley will be furious," Draco heard Arabella mutter under her breath in despair. "But that was bloody brilliant."

_AN: We are almost done with 5th year (thank Merlin—my least favorite to write about). Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease review!_


	21. Chapter 21

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. In order to keep flow with the canon, **direct quotes are taken from the United States version of ****Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.**** (pp 675-710). ****Those words, where they appear, are not mine, they are JK Rowling's. **

**XXI. Calm Before the Storm**

The story of the Weasley's departure was retold so often over the next few days, Draco wanted to tear his hair out by the end of it. The twins did not leave instructions on how to remove the swamp, and Umbridge and Filch were unable to do so themselves. Eventually the area was roped off and Filch, gnashing his teeth furiously, was given the task of punting students across it to their classrooms. Draco didn't blame him, he'd be furious too. What a waste of time and school resources.

Seemingly inspired by the Weasley twins' lunacy, a great number of students were now vying for the newly vacant positions of Troublemakers-in-Chief. Someone managed to slip a hairy-snouted niffler into Umbridge's office, which promptly tore the place apart in search for shiny objects, leapt on Umbridge on her reentrance, and tried to gnaw the rings off her stubby fingers. Dungbombs and Stinkpellets were dropped so frequently in the corridors that it became the new fashion for students to perform Bubble-Head Charms on themselves before leaving lessons, which ensured them a supply of fresh clean air, even though it gave them all the peculiar appearance of wearing upside-down goldfish bowls on their heads. All of these little disturbances resulted in Draco and Arabella, as leaders of the Inquisitorial Squad, being called out of class or away from studying to help Umbridge. Draco couldn't decide who Arabella wanted to kill more—Umbridge or himself.

Filch prowled the corridors with a horsewhip ready in his hands, desperate to catch miscreants, but the problem was that there were now so many of them that he did not know which way to turn. The Inquisitorial Squad were attempting to help him, but odd things kept happening to its members. Warrington of the Slytherin Quidditch team reported to the hospital wing with a horrible skin complaint that made him look as though he had been coated in cornflakes. Pansy Parkinson missed all her lessons the following day, as she had sprouted antlers.

Meanwhile, it was clear just how many joke-kits, or whatever they were, the Weasley twins had managed to sell before leaving Hogwarts. Umbridge only had to enter her classroom for the students assembled there to faint, vomit, develop dangerous fevers, or else spout blood from both nostrils. Shrieking with rage and frustration she attempted to trace the mysterious symptoms to their source, but the students told her stubbornly they were suffering "Umbridge-itis." After putting four successive classes in detention and failing to discover their secret she was forced to give up and allow the bleeding, swooning, sweating and vomiting students to leave her classes in droves. Draco was starting to realize what Arabella had meant by so many students being disgruntled with Umbridge. Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons were turning into a complete waste of time (as if they hadn't been already, Arabella reminded him).

But nothing could compete with the master of chaos, Peeves, who seemed to have taken the Weasley twins' parting words deeply to heart. Cackling madly, he soared through the school, upending tables, bursting out of blackboards, and toppling statues and vases. Twice he shut Mrs. Norris inside suits of armor, from which she was rescued, yowling loudly, by the furious caretaker. He smashed lanterns and snuffed out candles, juggled burning torches over the heads of screaming students, caused neatly stacked piles of parchment to topple into fires or out of windows, flooded the second floor when he pulled off all the taps in the bathrooms, dropped a bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast and, whenever he fancied a break, spent hours at a time floating along after Umbridge and blowing loud raspberries every time she spoke.

None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet. He remained confused and disoriented and his parents were observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry.

To make matters worse, Slytherin lost to Hufflepuff in their last match of the season that Saturday. And as if to foreshadow the pain and misery to come, Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw in the Quidditch final, securing the Quidditch Cup. Without Potter. Without the Weasley twins. And with Ron Weasley as their dismal Keeper. A round chorus of "Weasley is Our King"-with genuine lyrics—sung by the Gryffindors ran through the halls all weekend, putting Draco in a foul mood.

So by the time the first week of June rolled around, with O.W.L.s looming imminently, Draco had nearly forgotten about his birthday. Nearly.

"Hey, Mate," Blaise slid onto the bench beside Draco on the morning of his birthday. "Happy Birthday!"

"Yeah...thanks," Draco said offhandedly.

"Any big plans?"

"Does studying count?"

Blaise laughed, "Not really."

Crabbe and Goyle arrived then, insisting on signing loudly and off-key to Draco, which was quite embarrassing and barely appreciated. He looked up to see Arabella in deep conversation with Granger, apparently ignoring the show.

The post arrived when Draco was halfway through his porridge. Two scruffy owls carrying a package between them dropped in front of Draco's spot, splashing his coffee all over Blaise's eggs.

"What's that?" Crabbe asked.

"No idea," Draco replied, looking at it with apprehension.

"It must be for your birthday," Goyle supplied, ever the observant one.

"Yes, but it's definitely not from home," Draco said, using his wand to cut the tape holding the box together.

A pile of green tissue paper hid whatever was in the package from view, but taped to the inside of one of the box flaps was a little slip of paper. Draco carefully removed it from the cardboard, unfolding it to reveal a very short note:

_ Wishing you the happiest of birthdays, despite imminent examinations._

There was no signature, just a sketch of a rosebud that was enchanted to bloom into a purple-colored rose.

"Who's it from?" Crabbe finally interrupted.

"And what is it?" Goyle asked.

"It's from Arabella," Draco said, looking across the Great Hall. The young lady of interest was deep in conversation with St. Potter, so Draco turned back to the box.

He uncovered the tissue paper from the top of the box to reveal a care package of sorts. It included his favorite Honeydukes sweets, a stress ball in the shape of a snitch, a stuffed animal that looked like a vampire bat, among other trinkets. Another wrapped box was placed inside with a note stuck to it:

_Here's a birthday-themed gift to go with your care package. _

_ PS: Don't open it in the Great Hall, please._

Draco covered the box up, looking up directly to Arabella. She was looking in his direction now, obviously trying to gauge his reaction.

"Something good?" Blaise interrupted his thoughts between shovels of eggs entering his mouth.

Draco realized he was smiling and he hurriedly hid it with his usual sneer.

"Rather."

Draco took one last gulp of coffee before standing from the table to store the box before class.

When he got to his room, he placed her notes on the bulletin board above his bed, where all her letters were stashed in a little wire basket. He hid the plushie under his pillow and placed the snitch stress ball on his bedside table. He sat on his bed to open the last gift. The box was relatively flat and wrapped in green and silver wrapping paper. Draco opened it carefully, lifting the lid of the box almost fearfully. What could she have possibly gotten him that she would not want opened in the Great Hall?

Silver tissue paper covered the object, and when Draco lifted it away he gasped. It was a beautifully carved piece of wood. He lifted out of the box and examined the carvings. The Malfoy crest, swirls of magic, a Snitch, and various other things important to Draco were carved into the wood. He turned it over in his hands and realized the block of wood had a hinge, meaning the object was closed like a book. Draco opened it carefully to reveal a two-sided picture frame complete with two photographs—recent ones. Narcissa had insisted on getting a new set of family photos after Arabella joined the family. The photo on the right was of Draco and Arabella in the parlor. Dressed in fine robes, Draco was standing behind her, obviously posed. Above that photo, engraved in the wood, were their names. A rose was carved beside Arabella's name, the constellation Draco carved next to his name. The photo on the right included Draco's parents. "Family" was inscribed at the top. Of course, they were moving photos, so Narcissa was beaming, gazing at the camera and then back at her family. Arabella was smiling but fidgety. Lucius looked bored. Draco, in a moment of weakness he knew he would pay for later, placed the frame on his bedside table, propped open so everyone could see. He was sure to get teased for it later. But it was the best gift he'd ever received, and one he knew Arabella would have struggled to give. She didn't like associating herself with the Malfoy family, and he knew it. He'd have to thank her extensively in person later.

After feasting on roast and cupcakes at dinner that night, Draco and the rest of the 5th year Slytherin boys went back to the Common Room to relax and study. (But mostly to relax.) They sat chatting for quite a while, until at last Nott challenged Draco to a round of Wizard's Chess.

"I'll go grab my chess set," Draco said, heading for the dorm room. "I'll be right back."

At the last second he could have sworn Blaise muttered something like "if you say so."

Draco descended the dark spiral staircase to the dormitories. When he entered the fifth year boys' dorm room, he stopped in his tracks. The curtain on his four-poster bed was drawn. He'd not been in the room since that morning, when he'd stashed the box from Arabella...but he was sure he'd left the curtain open as usual. He only ever closed it to sleep or block out the others' chatter.

He approached the bed quietly and cautiously, raising his wand to the ready. In one quick motion, he ripped the curtain open, preparing to hex whatever or whoever dared to hide among his things.

"Drakey!"

"Merlin, Pansy!" Draco clutched at his heart, which was fluttering rapidly with adrenaline. "I almost hexed you!"

"Happy Birthday, Drakey!"

"What are you...?"

"I'm giving you your birthday present!" Pansy replied.

Draco looked down at her quizzically. And then he realized she was wearing nothing more than a short—and rather thin—silk robe.

Draco groaned and turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't need or want this. Especially not right now, when he was trying to focus on exams and Arabella.

"Pansy..."

"Drakey, don't you miss me? Don't you miss..._us?_" Pansy scooted to the edge of the bed. When he turned back, she flung her arms around his neck. Draco attempted to extricate himself from her grasp.

"No, Pansy. Just stop," Draco said firmly.

Pansy deflated slightly, but continued, no less suggestively, "But you used to love my _presents..._"

"That was when we were together," Draco responded, grabbing her wrists gently and bringing them down to her sides.

"We can be together again, Drakey," Pansy whined.

"You know that's not possible."

"It would be possible if you wanted it to be."

"But I don't. I'm sorry."

Her lip quivered.

"I'd like to think you're doing this out of duty, but you aren't, are you? You're doing it for _her!_" Pansy said, standing suddenly, pointing at the picture frame on Draco's beside table.

"It doesn't matter why, Pansy, just that the answer is 'no,'" Draco continued softly.

"It does matter! The Draco I knew wouldn't bother playing by the rules of courtship if it were just a matter of duty. As long as the girl in question didn't find out—you wouldn't care!"

"I would care enough not to cheat with someone who would turn around and tell the whole school," Draco bit out the accusation. "You'd ruin my reputation in an attempt to either get us back together or make my life a living hell."

"But you don't realize you're already in hell, do you Draco? Because we both know you won't be getting any from that despicable little Mud—"

"Don't you _dare_ call her that! You know she's not."

"She's as good as! A filthy blood traitor!"

Draco lowered his voice, "What would your father say if he heard you speaking about the Dark Lord's only daughter in such a way?"

Pansy's mouth sprang shut with the click of her teeth. She turned back to the picture frame on the beside table.

"_Family_," she spat sarcastically. "Ha! She'll never be like you and me, Draco. She'll never understand you the way I do. She's not one of us."

"It doesn't matter, Pansy," Draco shook his head.

"Yes it does! Why can't you see?" she picked up the picture frame. "She's nothing! You should want me!"

Pansy hurled the frame across the room, where the glass covering the pictures shattered and the hinge bent at an odd angle. She only ran from the room when she saw Draco's expression as he went to rescue the frame instead of comforting the girl in front of him. He quickly repaired the frame with a wave of his wand, cradling it gently as he brought it back to the spot on his bedside table.

He sighed and slid to the floor beside his bed, resting his head in his hands. For all the false accusations Pansy could make, she'd been right about one thing. He was following the rules for Arabella's sake. If he was going to win her love—or at least her tolerance—he would have to play the game by her rules. And that meant, as much as it pained the ferret-side of Draco, no other women. None but her.

And he was totally okay with that.

The night before the O.W.L.s were to begin, the examiners arrived. Dinner was a subdued affair. None of the fifth years really spoke. Draco could barely get food down for the nerves, even if he thought Charms would be the easiest and best subject to start with. Best to start out strong. Suddenly everyone's attention began to turn—Umbridge could be seen through the doors to the Great Hall. She was standing with a small group of ancient-looking witches and wizards. Even Umbridge looked nervous.

Suddenly, the members of the Golden Quartet were on their feet, headed in the direction of the examiners. The gall! Draco gave up on eating and, once the examiners had moved on, left the Great Hall for the dungeons.

The Common Room was uncomfortably tense and quiet. Draco immediately retired to his bed, where he reviewed a few spells before taking out a snitch to play with to distract him from everybody's stress. Unable to sleep and unwilling to study, he finally took to the halls. He walked absentmindedly, thinking through the incantations and wand motions for all of the charms they'd learned over the past five years. No big deal.

Before he knew it, he was at the Astronomy Tower. He went to the railing, leaning his elbows on it and looking down onto the grounds of the castle. All was quiet.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Draco turned to find none other than Arabella leaning against the doorway.

"Come to escape your Common Room as well, love?"

"The tension was too much to bear," Arabella said as she came to join him at the railing. Instead of looking across the grounds, however, she looked up toward the stars.

"How are you feeling about exams?" Draco asked.

"Anxious."

"Don't be. You'll do wonderfully. You're clever, hardworking, studious...and you come from one of the most powerful wizarding families in Britain."

"Thanks...I think."

They stood in silence for a moment. Arabella was the first to break the silence, pointing out Arcturis in the sky. Draco looked up from where he had been pondering the lake. They began playing one of their favorite games, if you could call it a game. They took turns naming all of the constellations in the sky, turning then to the planets and moons they could see.

"I think we've named them all," Draco finally finished off with Polaris, the easy one.

"Well, we must be ready for our Astronomy exam," Arabella giggled.

"A week too early."

"Too bad it's too early for Draco to be out," Arabella said, referring to the constellation that was his namesake. "A couple more weeks and it should be visible."

Draco, the human, looked at her. She was still looking at the sky in awe, a contented smile on her face. He cleared his throat, finding his attraction for her lodged there like bad case of laryngitis.

"I haven't had the chance to tell you...Thank you so much for the birthday gift."

"Oh?" her face lit up in anticipation. "Did you like it?"

Draco suddenly became embarrassed in his attempt to be honest, "The frame is gorgeous. It was the best gift I've ever received."

Arabella laughed, "I doubt that, but thank you for saying so."

Draco wasn't sure how to prove his sincerity.

"How was the rest of your birthday?"

He wasn't sure how to say "Pansy attacked me" without causing a fuss, so he didn't.

"Oh, uneventful. Your box was the highlight."

He could've sworn he saw her blush.

"Unfortunately the sweets didn't last long. And the stress ball Snitch came in handy."

"Oh good," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. "The bat was a really terrible addition."

She laughed nervously. Draco didn't think he'd ever seen her on edge this way before.

"I thought about getting you a plushie owl, but everyone has owls. Owls and cats. Even Neville has a toad. But no one ever bothers to bring a bat to school, even though it's one of the few pets allowed at Hogwarts. Isn't that strange?"

Leave it to Arabella to over-think the pet policy at Hogwarts.

"Well, now you have your very own bat!"

"We could get you a real one, if you like," Draco suggested.

"Oh no! No, no, no, no...I'm not a fan of live ones. They're only cute when they're stuffed animals."

Draco couldn't help but chuckle, "Then he'll be _our_ pet bat."

"And what shall we name him?"

"Batty?"

"Too cliche. Bartholomew?"

"Barty? A bit contrived. Bernard?"

Arabella wrinkled her nose, "Could you call him Bernie with a straight face?"

"We are talking about a stuffed bat, you know."

"Bingley! Let's name him Bingley."

Draco straightened his robes in order to look official, "Bingley it is!"

Arabella sighed in contentment, turning back to look over the balcony of the Astronomy Tower.

"The picture frame really is gorgeous, Arabella," Draco spoke softly into the night.

Arabella turned to face him, "I'm glad you like it."

Draco suddenly had a strong desire to hug Arabella. Or, even better, to kiss her. But they were not a couple. They didn't touch each other unless Arabella was being forced to. Then again, every couple had to start somewhere, right? Draco was paralyzed with indecision, unable to propel himself forward, unwilling to give up on this perfect chance to show her affection. He felt so incredibly awkward, and Malfoys just don't do awkward.

"We're getting better at this," Draco spoke finally, inching just a little closer to Arabella, who didn't seem to notice his advances or his nerves.

"At what?" she asked.

"This," he said moving a pointed finger between them.

"Tolerating each other for more than ten minutes?" she asked sarcastically with a lighthearted laugh that left Draco feeling ill.

A soft summer breeze floated by, taking Arabella's laugh into the night. It lifted her long blond hair into the air. Draco reached forward to tuck a strand behind her ear, suddenly and mercifully feeling like his confident self again.

"I'd like to think it could be more than toleration..."

Arabella stiffened as his fingers lingered against her cheek.

"You know I don't feel the same way, Malfoy."

The dreaded return of his surname. Draco let his hand drift back to the railing of the balcony as he turned away from her to gaze once again—not at the stars—but at the dark and gloomy grounds of the castle.

"Do you think you ever could?" his voice was barely a whisper, no louder than the breeze.

"I don't think so."

And she departed silently.


	22. Chapter 22

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. The contents of part of this chapter are taken and modified from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix pages 741-800 (US version). Please note that some exact phrases are taken from that book for continuity and I lay no claim to those words being mine—they are JK Rowling's!

_AN: It might help to read Ch 14 of Bella's Story if you'd like to refresh your memory (although a lot of it is the same). :) Also, please read the Disclaimer! And **please please please REVIEW!**_

**XXII. The Storm**

What followed was the most exhausting two weeks of examinations Draco could have ever imagined. They sat the written portions of their exams in the morning, performing the practical in front of an examiner in the afternoon. Draco was quite pleased with all of his exams—save the one mistake he'd made during the Charms practical. He'd been momentarily distracted by Potter's entrance to his exam and had dropped the wine glass he'd been levitating, causing it to shatter on the floor. The examiners were making far too much of a fuss over the famous Boy Who Lived, as far as Draco was concerned. Aside from that, and the little disturbance that had occurred during their Astronomy practical, which was sure to affect everyone's scores and therefore skew the curve, he was sure he'd aced his exams.

Draco hadn't seen Arabella since she'd gone pummeling out of their History of Magic O.W.L., no doubt in search of Poor Pathetic Potter, who'd fainted in the middle of the dreadful exam. Now his Inquisitorial Squad button was vibrating, and a heavy weight settled into the pit of his stomach. Nothing good could come of Potter fainting, Arabella upset and the end of another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, thank you for coming so promptly," Umbridge met him and several of the other Squad members as they made their way into the Entrance Hall. "It seems someone else has attempted to infiltrate my office—the Stealth Sensoring Spells have been tripped."  
>"Merlin, will they ever learn?" Draco said, shaking his head.<p>

"And I have a pretty good idea who," she said, stepping aside to reveal Ron Weasley roughly gagged and being held by Cassius Warrington. "He was sent—no doubt by Potter—to tell me Peeves was in the Transfiguration department, but I have it on good authority that he was busy in the Astronomy Tower."

"A diversion," Draco said, his heart sinking. If Potter and Weasley were infiltrating Umbridge's office for some reason, no doubt Arabella would be helping with the disastrous plan.

"I figured I'd call for back up in case Potter has roped in some of his fellow Gryffindors to help," Umbridge continued as they began walking in the direction of her office.

"Of course. Right you are, Professor," Draco nodded, hoping Arabella would come barreling around the corner soon, ready to help. Every second that ticked by without her joining the Inquisitorial Squad was one more second she was more likely to be with Potter—and likely to be caught by Umbridge as such.

Flanked by Millicent Bulstrode, Crabbe, Goyle and Warrington, they approached the corridor that led to Professor Umbridge's office. There, Loony Luna Lovegood was turning people around, claiming no one could go down the hallway due to Garroting Gas being set off. Of course, just as she saw Umbridge, her eyes widened and she opened her mouth widely, as if to yell or sing. One of the Slytherins grabbed her. Draco sent several down the hall to check the other end, where, no doubt, there were other lookouts. As commotion ensued, Draco pushed passed the others and strode quickly down the hall. He knew Millicent was a few meters behind him, so when he realized who was standing guard outside of their Headmistress's office, whispering hurriedly into the crack of the door, he distanced him further so he could confront her first.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" Draco spat angrily as he pulled Arabella gruffly to one side, taking her wand and allowing Millicent to corner Granger, who she'd been talking to through the door to the office.

"Got them!" Draco called down the hall.

"Well done, Mr. Malfoy!" Umbridge came around the corner into her office.

Draco followed her into the office, still holding Arabella by her upper arm firmly and dragging her with him. Someone was using Umbridge's unsupervised Floo network to communicate—she unceremoniously yanked him from the fire—it was Potter.

"You think," Umbridge whispered, holding Potter by the hair and bending him backwards by the neck, "that after two nifflers I was going to let one more foul, scavenging little creature enter my office without my knowledge? I had Stealth Sensoring Spells place all around my doorway after the last one got in, you foolish boy. Take his wand," she barked, and Draco lunged forward to seize the stick she was holding without letting go of Arabella. There was a scuffle as Millicent wrested Granger's wand from her hands as well.

"I want to know why you are in my office," said Umbridge, shaking the fist clutching Potter's hair so that he staggered.

"I was—trying to get my Firebolt!" Potter croaked pathetically.

"Liar." She shook her head again. "Your Firebolt is under strict guard in the dungeons, as you very well know, Potter. You had your head in my fire. With whom have you been communicating?"

"No one—" said Potter, trying to pull away from her.

"_Liar!_" shouted Umbridge. She threw him from her, and he slammed into the desk. Arabella whimpered at this, causing Umbridge to round on her. "And you! Lucius Malfoy will be _very_ upset to hear you were running around consorting with people like _this!_" She waved her arm, indicating Potter and Granger. "He indicated to me last summer that you would be someone to be trusted, like Draco, here. But I can see you will need to be _dealt with_ as well."

There was a commotion outside and several large Slytherins entered, each gripping Weasley, Weaslette, Loony Luna and Longbottom, who's presence seemed to cause some surprise to Arabella, Potter and Granger. Longbottom was now trapped in a stranglehold by Crabbe and looked in imminent danger of suffocation. All four of the newcomers had been gagged.

"Got 'em all," said Warrington, shoving Weasley roughly forward into the room. "_That_ one," he poked a thick finger at Longbottom, "tried to stop me taking _her_," he pointed at Weaselette, who was trying to kick the shins of the large Slytherin girl holding her, "so I brought him along too."

"Good, good," said Umbridge, watching Ginny's struggles. "Well, it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?"

Draco laughed loudly at Umbridge's joke, only to receive a sharp elbow jab in his stomach from Arabella. He leaned over slightly at the pain, but pulled Arabella closer in retaliation, holding both her upper arms in his hands and pressing her back against his chest.

"So Potter," Umbridge began, her wide, complacent smile spreading across her face as she settled into a chintz-covered armchair. "You stationed lookouts around my office and you sent this buffoon," she nodded to Weasley, "to tell me the poltergeist was wreaking havoc in the Transfiguration department when I knew perfectly well that he was busy smearing ink on the eyepieces of all the school telescopes, Mr. Filch having just informed me so.

"Clearly it was very important for you to talk to somebody. Was it Albus Dumbledore? Or the half-breed, Hagrid? I doubt it was Minerva McGonagall, I hear she is still too ill to talk to anyone..."

Draco and a few of the others laughed as Potter began shaking with anger and hatred. Arabella attempted to step forward out of Draco's grasp but he held tight.

"It's none of your business who I talk to," Potter snarled.

Umbridge's slack face seemed to tighten.

"Very well," she said in her most dangerous and falsely sweet voice. "Very well, Mr. Potter...I offered you the chance to tell me freely. You refused. I have no alternative but to force you. Draco—fetch Professor Snape."

Draco nodded, handing Arabella over to Blaise.

"No funny business with her. Just make sure she stays put," Draco hissed at his friend, placing Potter and Ari's wands in his inner robe pocket.

"Of course, Draco," Blaise muttered back.

Draco sprinted to Snape's office, telling him only that Umbridge required his presence. They quickly returned, walking the whole way back in silence.

"You wanted to see me, Headmistress?" said Snape, looking around at all the pairs of struggling students with an expression of complete indifference.

"Ah, Professor Snape," said Umbridge, smiling widely and standing up again. "Yes, I would like another bottle of Veritaserum, as quickly as you can, please."

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter," he said, surveying her coolly through the curtains of his black hair. "Surely you did not use it all? I told you that three drops would be sufficient."

Umbridge flushed. Draco's heart sank. Surely she didn't use the whole bottle? Draco thought of how the Dark Lord had tested Arabella with Veritaserum last summer. Perhaps it didn't work on Potter, like with Arabella.

"You can make some more, can't you?" she said, her voice becoming more sweetly girlish as it always did when she was furious.

"Certainly," said Snape, his lip curling. "It takes a full moon cycle to mature, so I should have it ready for you in around a month."

"A month?" squawked Umbridge, swelling toadishly. "A _month_? But I need it this evening, Snape! I have just found Potter using the fire to communicate with a person or persons unknown!"

"Really?" said Snape, showing his first, faint sign of interest as he looked around at Potter. "Well, it doesn't surprise me. Potter has never shown much inclination to follow school rules."

"I wish to interrogate him!" repeated Umbridge angrily, "I wish you to provide me with a potion that will force him to tell me the truth!"

"I have already told you," Snape said smoothly, "that I have no further stocks of Veritaserum. Unless you wish to poison Potter—and I assure you I would have the greatest sympathy with you if you did—I cannot help you. The only trouble is that most venoms act too fast to give the victim much time for truth-telling."

"You are on probation!" Umbridge shrieked at Snape. Snape looked back, his eyebrows raised. "You are being deliberately unhelpful!"

Arabella let out a laugh at this statement, but quickly began coughing when all eyes turned toward her.

"I expected better of you, Snape. Lucius Malfoy always speaks most highly of you! Now get out of my office!"

Snape gave her an ironic bow and turned to leave, sending one last lingering glance at Draco and Arabella.

"He's got Padfoot!" Potter suddenly shouted before Snape could leave. "He's got Padfoot in the place where it's hidden!"

Snape stopped in his tracks, his hand on the doorknob to Umbridge's office.

"Padfoot?" cried Umbridge, looking eagerly from Potter to Snape. "What is Padfoot? Where what is hidden? What does he mean, Snape?"

"I have no idea," said Snape coldly. "Potter, when I want nonsense shouted at me I shall give you a Babbling Beverage. And Crabbe, loosen your hold a little, if Longbottom suffocates it will mean a lot of tedious paperwork, and I am afraid I'll have to mention it on your reference if ever you apply for a job."

He closed the door behind him with a snap. Arabella seemed to deflate slightly where she stood still with Blaise.

"Very well," Umbridge said, and she pulled out her wand. "Very well...I am left with no alternative...This is more than a matter of school discipline...This is an issue of Ministry security, yes, yes. You are forcing me, Potter...I do not want to, but sometimes circumstances justify the use...I am sure the Minister will understand that I had no choice..."

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was Umbridge really considering what he thought she was? An Unforgivable Curse? On _Potter!_

"The Cruciatus Curse ought to loosen your tongue," said Umbridge. Draco saw Arabella's head turn violently toward the Headmistress.

"No!" she and Granger shouted at the same time. Arabella lunged forward, but Draco foresaw her reaction. He grabbed her from Blaise's grasp, pushing her back against the wall as he gripped her arm violently.

"Don't do anything stupid," Draco breathed in her ear.

"Professor Umbridge—it's illegal!" Granger continued.

But Umbridge took no notice. She looked nasty, eager, excited as she raised her wand, very much like some of the Death Eaters did when torturing. She stepped closer to Potter, who took an instinctive step backwards.

"The Minister wouldn't want you to break the law, Professor Umbridge!" Granger pleaded again.

"He never knew I ordered dementors after Potter last summer, but he was delighted to be given a the chance to expel him, all the same..."

"It was _you_?" gasped Potter, "_You_ sent the dementors after me?"

"_Somebody_ had to act," breathed Umbridge, as her wand traveled toward Potter's head. "They were all bleating about silencing you somehow—discrediting you—but I was the only one who actually _did_ something about it...Only you wriggled out of that one, didn't you, Potter? Not today, though, not now..."

Umbridge took a deep breath, raising her wand, as Draco instinctively pulled Arabella closer protectively, "_Cruc—" _

"NO!" shouted Granger in a cracked voice from behind Millicent Bulstrode. "No—Harry –Harry, we'll have to tell her!"

"No way!" yelled Potter, staring at the little of Granger he could see.

"Hermione are you crazy?" Arabella asked incredulously.

"We'll have to, she'll force it out of Harry anyway, what's...what's the point...?"

Granger began to cry weakly into the back of Millicent Bulstrode's robes. Millicent stopped trying to squash her against the wall immediately and dodged out of her way looking disgusted.

"Well, well, well!" said Umbridge, looking triumphant. "Little Miss Question-All is going to give us some answers! Come on then, girl, come on!"

"Er—my—nee—no!" shouted Weasley through his gag.

Weaslette, Longbottom, and Potter were all staring at Granger strangely.

"I'm sorry everyone," Granger said. "But—I can't stand it—"

"That's right, that's right, girl!" said Umbridge, seizing Granger by the shoulders, thrusting her into the abandoned chintz chair and leaning over her. "Now then...with whom was Potter communicating just now?"

"Well," gulped Granger into her hands, "well, he was _trying_ to speak to Professor Dumbledore..."

Arabella sighed heavily in Draco's arms, causing him to survey the room. Weasley's eyes grew wide; his sister stopped trying to stamp on her Slytherin captor's toes; even Loony Lovegood looked mildly surprised. Umbridge and everyone else were too focused on Granger to notice the change in their prisoners' behavior.

"Dumbledore?" said Umbridge eagerly. "You know where Dumbledore is, then?"

"Well...no!" sobbed Granger. "We've tried the Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley and the Three Broomsticks and even the Hog's Head—"

"Idiot girl, Dumbledore won't be sitting in a pub when the whole Ministry's looking for him!" shouted Umbridge, disappointment etched in every sagging line of her face.

"But—but we needed to tell him something important!" wailed Granger, holding her hands more tightly over her face.

"Yes?" Umbridge said with a sudden resurgence of excitement. "What was it you wanted to tell him?"

"We...we wanted to tell him it's r-ready!" choked Granger.

"What's ready?" demanded Umbridge, and now she grabbed Granger's shoulders again and shook her slightly. "What's ready, girl?"

"The...the weapon," said Granger.

"Weapon? Weapon?" said Umbridge, and her eyes seemed to pop with excitement. "You have been developing some method of resistance? A weapon you could use against the Ministry? On Professor Dumbledore's orders, of course?"

"Y-y-yes," gasped Granger. "But he had to leave before it was finished and n-n-now we've finished it for him, and we c-c-can't find him t-t-to tell him!"

"What kind of weapon is it?" said Umbridge harshly, her stubby hands still tight on Granger's shoulders.

"We don't r-r-really understand it," said Granger, sniffing loudly. "We j-j-just did what P-P-Professor Dumbledore told us t-t-to do..."

Umbridge straightened up, looking exultant.

"Lead me to the weapon," she said.

"I'm not showing..._them_," said Granger shrilly, looking around at the Slytherins through her fingers.  
>"It is not for you to set the conditions," said Professor Umbridge harshly.<p>

"Fine," said Granger, now sobbing into her hands again, "fine...let them see it, I hope they use it on you! In fact, I wish you'd invite loads and loads of people to come and see! Th-that would serve you right—oh, I'd love it if the wh-whole school knew where it was, and how to u-use it, and then if you annoy any of them they'll be able to s-sort you out!"

These words had a powerful impact on Umbridge. She glanced swiftly and suspiciously around at everyone in the Inquisitorial Squad, her bulging eyes rested for a moment on Draco, who didn't realize how eager he looked until he tried to restore his features to normalcy. He wouldn't lie, the idea of such a powerful weapon was intriguing. But what could it be? What could Arabella have possibly gotten herself into?

Umbridge contemplated Granger for another long moment and then spoke in what she clearly thought was a motherly voice. "All right, dear, let's make it just you and me...and we'll take Potter too, shall we? Get up, now—"

"Professor," Draco interrupted, "Professor Umbridge, I think some of the squad should come with you to look after—"

"I am a fully qualified Ministry official, Malfoy, do you really think I cannot manage two wandless teenagers alone?" asked Umbridge sharply. "In any case, it does not sound as though this weapon is something schoolchildren should see."

Draco felt a pang of irritation at being called a school-child. She was being far too condescending to them, all upper level students.

"You will remain here until I return and make sure none of these" —she gestured around at the other captives—"escape."

"All right," said Draco, not bothering to hide his disappointment.

"And you two can go ahead of me and show me the way," said Umbridge, pointing at Potter and Granger with her wand, "Lead on..."

When the door shut behind Umbridge, Draco rounded on Arabella, pressing her back roughly against the wall behind her.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Arabella?"

"For the millionth time it's just Bella," she snapped at him, ignoring his question and looking warily around at her companions.

"Do you __want __to get in trouble with yo—my father?" he corrected himself halfway through.

"Oh, it's alright, everyone here knows who my father is," she said snidely, "but do you really think this is the time or place for this?"

He looked hurriedly around, grabbed Arabella by the arm and pulled her just outside of Umbridge's office.

"This is _so_ much better," she commented sarcastically.

"Our fathers gave me the responsibility of looking after you this year," he whispered forcefully, still holding her arm firmly.

"Oh, because I'm not capable of taking care of myself?" she argued, ripping her arm from his grasp.

"Obviously not!"

"How do you make out that?"

"You were caught in the Headmistress' office! With Potter! And the Mudblood!"

"Don't you EVER call Hermione that word again!" she seethed.

"Don't change the subject, Arabella! You are in _so _much trouble. You'll be getting a Howler for sure. You'll be locked in your room all summer for misbehaving."

"As if that's any different from last summer!" she exclaimed. This comment cut Draco deeply—more deeply than he thought possible. Hadn't he taken her for walks? They'd gone to the Lake House, even. She was no prisoner...

"And that will only happen if I end up going back this summer," Arabella continued, bringing Draco back to the present.

"What do you mean..." he asked slowly, dread taking hold of his heart. "You're not thinking of running away?"

"That's not exactly the right word. It's more like just refusing to go back..."

"And how are you going to manage that with the usual greeting party when we get off the Hogwarts Express?"

"I'll think of something," she said, crossing her arms, and smiling smugly "I'm sure with five years of practice with Harry, I'll devise a plan. Harry, Hermione, Ron and I always come up with something."

Her demeanor only incensed him further.

"Why can't you just do as you are told?" he asked, throwing his hands up in the air. "You are the most frustrating, difficult, annoying...uncooperative...exasperating— "

"Alright, I think I get the gist of it," she interrupted his rant, obviously irritated.

"Arabella..." he sighed.

"Malfoy..." she matched his tone mockingly

"We're just looking out for your best interests."

"No you aren't. I think I know what my 'best interests' are. I've spent the last fifteen years taking care of myself. I don't need a father who was never there when I was growing up to come waltzing into my life to tell me how I should act!"

"Based on what you've been up to behind our backs this year you do!"

"Don't pretend you know anything about me, Malfoy, because you don't."

"I know a lot more about you than you think I know," his voice suddenly calm.

Ari gave him a strange look. Suddenly there a was a scuffled from inside, red sparks were apparent even though the door.

"What the—" Draco said, heading into the room, his wand at the ready. As he reached the door, Ginny Weasley send a fierce Bat Bogey Hex his way. He was overcome with the creepy sensation of bats crawling from his nose and flapping their wings in his face. He attempted to slap them away, as Arabella grabbed for her and Potter's wands. Before he could regain his composure, she and all of her companions were sprinting down the hallway.

Blaise was the first of the Slytherins to recover from his hex. When he'd cast the counter-curse and released Draco from the torment of his bat-bogeys, they worked on healing Millicent's bloody nose and counter-acting Pansy's body-binding curse. When everyone was at last righted, Draco hurried down the hall in the direction he thought Arabella had gone. Unfortunately, he had no idea where they might be going.

"Where to next, mate?" Blaise asked, as if reading his mind.

"I have no idea," Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"You have no idea what this weapon they were referring to was?" Blaise asked.

"No. Never heard of it."

"You obviously haven't been doing a very good job of spying on No Name, then," Pansy's shrill and critical voice cut through the silence of the hallway.

"Shut up, Pansy," Blaise, Goyle and Warrington said all together.

"Alright then," Draco sighed heavily. "We were given instructions to stay put, and since we don't have the delinquents to watch over, we might as well police the rest of the school. We'll all patrol the usual routes in pairs. Pansy and Millicent. Warrington and Crabbe. Goyle and Nott. Blaise with me. If you find any of those who just took off, call everyone together with the badge, and we'll meet back here."

They dispersed.

Draco went down to breakfast early the next morning. Their rounds the previous night had been fruitless. There was no sign of any of the Golden Trio or their fellow miscreants. Draco had barely slept, thinking over what Arabella had said about refusing to go back to Malfoy Manor. He didn't like the idea that she might try something. He didn't think he'd like a summer back to being the only child. Life was definitely more interesting with Arabella around. The Great Hall was almost empty, very few students bothering to rise at such an early hour, especially after the brutality of their exams the previous weeks. Draco waited all through breakfast for any sign of Arabella. She never made an appearance. Nor did any of the Golden Quartet. Perhaps, like most other fifth years, they were just sleeping off the stress from exams.

"Mr. Malfoy," the familiar drawl of his Head of House brought Draco away from his thoughts.

Draco turned to regard Severus Snape, who wore an even more serious expression than usual, if at all possible. "Professor?"

"Miss Riddle is in the Hospital Wing. Now—don't be alarmed. She's quite alright. I passed her in the hall this morning, and she fainted. Apparently she fell down the stairs last night and sustained a concussion. She's sleeping, but you should visit her this afternoon."

Draco looked at his mentor skeptically. "And this has nothing to do with the fiasco in Umbridge's office last night?"

Snape looked at him pointedly, "None whatsoever."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Professor."

Snape stepped away, leaving Draco to contemplate his coffee and ponder what could possibly have happened after Ari had gone scrambling away from him last night.

After lunch, Draco went to the Hospital Wing, as instructed. Weasley and Granger occupied beds side by side, but sat quietly talking and eating their own lunches off a tray. They quieted instantly upon Draco's arrival. Across from them, in her own bed, was Professor Umbridge, sleeping fitfully. Madam Pomfrey was expecting him and ushered him behind a screen that was set up around a bed in the far corner of the Hospital Wing. Arabella lay sleeping quietly, propped up in bed. The only indication of a head injury was a thin scar on her forehead, which the nurse promptly checked and applied salve to before departing to check on her other patients. Madam Pomfrey returned every fifteen minutes to ask if Arabella had stirred. Each time, she left disappointed, muttering something about Dreamless Sleep and medical amateurs.

Hours later, she shifted in her sleep. An hour more and she began to mutter about brains and silver orbs. At last, just an hour before dinner, Arabella's eyes fluttered open.

"Hello, love," Draco whispered, brushing Arabella's bangs from her face.

She flinched at his touch, causing Draco to withdraw his hand sharply with a rushed apology.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Am I back at Hogwarts?"

This question baffled Draco. She'd never left Hogwarts, so why would she think otherwise?

"Madam Pomfrey?" Draco called around the curtain, feeling concerned. The nurse came shuffling quickly into view.

"Ah! Miss Riddle, we are glad to see you awake at last. How are you feeling?"

She groaned, "My head hurts."

"Here, drink this," Madam Pomfrey pushed a potion into Ari's hands. "How much do you remember?"

Arabella looked from Madam Pomfrey to Draco and back again before answering.

"Um...we got caught in Umbridge's office. I was on my way back to Gryffindor Tower...and then I'm here."

Madam Pomfrey sniffed. "Mr. Malfoy, why don't you go to dinner while I talk with Miss Riddle and run some tests?"

Her tone of voice and the look she gave him over her nose (a glare to rival that of Madam Pince!) left no doubt that she wasn't asking him a question, but rather giving him instructions.

Draco gave a gentle squeeze to Arabella's hand, promising to return after he ate.

He hadn't even settled into his usual spot at the Slytherin table when Theodore Nott approached, looking pale.

"Have you received a letter?" he whispered over the center of the table.

Draco gave him a quizzical look. Theo was clutching a piece of parchment in his sweaty hands so forcefully it was crinkling and wrinkling.

"From home? Did you get a letter from your mother?" Nott continued in response to Draco's blank stare.

The bottom of Draco's stomach dropped out as he shook his head.

"Crabbe. Avery. We thought maybe you, too."

"What happened?" Draco hissed.

Nott silently thrust his hand forward, offering the letter up. Draco took it and scanned it quickly. The letter was written by his own mother—Narcissa would of course take care of business for Nott Sr, the widower who had no one else to look after his son if he were...indisposed. The details were vague. There had been a mission for the Dark Lord. It had failed. Among those taken by the Ministry of Magic to Azkaban was Theo's father.

"Theo," it came out as barely a whisper but an entire apology in just one word.

His classmate shook his head, plopping down at last onto the bench, taking clumps of his hair in his fists.

"You've no word from home, then, Draco?" Blaise appeared out of no where.

"Was there no letter in the room?"

"No."

Draco shook his head. Surely his father would have been on this mission. Then, if he'd not heard from his mother as the others had, it must mean his father got away.

"No news is good news?" Blaise asked quietly, so Theo couldn't hear.

Draco shrugged blankly, before turning back to their companion. "Theo..."

"He's all I have. What am I to do now?"

"You'll come to stay with one of us, mate," Blaise supplied easily.

Silence encompassed them.

Draco, finally remembering himself, began dishing up some stew into a bowl. He did the same for Theo, putting the food before his friend without really believing the boy would take a bite.

"I need to head back to the Hospital Wing soon," he said to Blaise. "Arabella fell and has a concussion. She fainted on Snape this morning."

"Merlin!"

They ate in silence. Draco only looked up to see Potter enter the Great Hall strangely alone. He sat with Longbottom and Weaselette. They bowed their heads together and whispered. That's when Draco remembered seeing Weasley and Granger in the Hospital Wing as well.

"I have to go!" he leaped to his feet, striding quickly towards the door, attempting to hurry without drawing attention to himself.

Once in the Entrance Hall, Draco ran pell-mell for the Hospital Wing. When he arrived, Madam Pomfrey was conferring with none other than Albus Dumbledore, who had apparently returned sometime in the night.

"I wouldn't have bothered you sir, but Minerva is still at St. Mungo's, so she has no Head of House..."

"Of course, Poppy. You were right to call me, but I'm afraid she told me exactly what she told you."

They looked up when Draco approached.

"Mr. Malfoy, back so soon?" Madam Pomfrey said. "Perhaps you should return for some dessert before seeing Miss Riddle."

"I'm not leaving," Draco stood his ground.

Dumbledore looked at Draco, "Very well, Mr. Malfoy. I'm sure you'll know in good time, as it is. Why don't you keep Miss Bella comfortable while we await the arrival of Professor Snape?"

"Severus?" Madam Pomfrey looked startled.

"Yes. I believe he may be able to help."

Draco did what Dumbledore suggested, simply astonished that he hadn't been thrown out of the Hospital Wing. He went around the curtain to find Arabella right where he'd left her. She looked up to give him a sad smile.

"Why so glum?" he asked, taking her hand and sitting by her side. She attempted to remove her hand from his, but he held tight.

She sighed, "Don't they realize I can hear them whispering from the other side of the curtain? They could at least cast a silencing spell or something."

Draco let the corner of his mouth rise a half inch, "They just want what's best for you. And so do I. What aren't you telling them?"

Arabella looked away, "I told them everything I'm supposed to."

Draco furrowed his brow at her peculiar answer when Snape appeared from behind the screen.

"Miss Riddle. Mr. Malfoy," he nodded to each of them. Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore followed him, all three of them coming to surround Arabella's bed.

"What a turn out. One would think I was on my death bed," Arabella joked, then suddenly paling slightly, "I'm not on my death bed, am I?"

"No, dear," Madam Pomfrey said.

"Oh, good."

Snape looked to Dumbledore, who was peering over his half-moon spectacles at the patient in question.

"Bella," he began gently. "What's the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

Ari sighed heavily, "I already told you. I remember going back to Gryffindor Tower last night. That's it."

"After you fell?"

"Yes."

"Were you alone? How did you get back to your room? Did you get ready for bed as normal?"

Arabella's facial expression showed her frustration and pain.

"Too many questions," she whispered. "My head hurts."

"Of course, I apologize," the Headmaster stated kindly. "It's always difficult to answer questions you don't know the answers to."

He allowed for a pregnant pause that only caused Arabella to squirm.

"The thing is, we know you weren't in Gryffindor Tower last night."

Arabella looked down at the blanket cover her bed as she smoothed it across her stomach.

"We need to know what you remember so we can make sure your head injury is no more than a simple concussion. Madam Pomfrey needs to know how to care for you. She can't do that properly without the truth."

Draco looked at Arabella, who was struggling to keep her gaze at any one person any given moment. She looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"We already know what happened leading up to your injury, Bella," Dumbledore continued. "Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom were able to supply us with that information. But we need the rest."

It seemed Arabella was choking back a sob, "Isn't that enough?"

"Not quite," Madam Pomfrey said.

Snape pulled another chair forward to the side of her bed. He sat down and took her other hand, sandwiching it gently between his own. This was more affection than Draco had seen Snape give to anyone, and suddenly he felt like he was intruding on something quite private.

"The truth does not have to leave this little cubicle," Snape cut in. "Draco and I will not tell anyone that you spoke with Madam Pomfrey. And she won't share any of the information because it's only for medical purposes, right?"

"Right," Madam Pomfrey said cheerily.

Arabella still seemed hesitant.

"There was a threat?" Snape whispered to her.

She nodded quietly.

"Did it come from the Dark Lord?"

She shook her head.

"Then don't worry about it. He won't ever know, and I will have your back."

"So will I," Draco supplied quietly.

Snape shared a grateful glance with him.

"Okay," Arabella nodded. "But just Madam Pomfrey."

The men excused themselves so that Madam Pomfrey could talk with Arabella.

"Thank you for coming, Severus," Dumbledore said once they were out of ear shot.

"Of course," Snape responded severely, as if there were no other option. And, Draco supposed, for him there probably wasn't.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other things to attend to," Dumbledore said.

After the Headmaster had left, Snape took Draco aside. He quickly explained a fraction of the things that had occurred the night before, promising that everything else would be explained when they returned home at the end of the year. His father was safe at home, Arabella had indeed been terribly injured, and the secret about the Dark Lord was out.

"I fully expect you to keep your word to Arabella. What has just taken place here will not be spoken of to anyone," Snape said, training his most threatening glare upon Draco.

"Yes, sir."

"And if I find out you did otherwise, you'll have me to answer to, Mr. Malfoy."

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, I must take my leave as well. Don't frustrate Arabella too much by insisting you stay with her. She needs rest more than anything."

"Yes, sir."

Snape nodded, then swept from the Hospital Wing with his cloak billowing behind him. Draco stared after him until Madam Pomfrey pulled him from his reverie, saying he could go back and sit with Arabella.

Draco went back to his previous seat, taking her hand in his firmly.

"Malfoy?"

"It's Draco to you, love."

"And it's Bella to you."

They held each other's stare for a moment, neither willing to yield.

"Yes?" Draco finally said.

"Promise not to say anything to anyone. Not your father or mine. Not even your mother?"

"I promise."

"Please Draco, no one can find out!" she looked panicked.

"It's okay—I promise!" he said, squeezing her hand insistently. "What's most important is your health and safety."

He reached up to smooth the hair back from her face. She looked at him pointedly.

"I promise," he stated firmly again. "Now relax."

She settled back into the pillows of her bed, still slightly propped up, and Draco helped to pull the blankets up further for her. When Madam Pomfrey returned with potions for Arabella, Draco said his good night, planting a soft kiss on Arabella's forehead and promising to return in the morning.


	23. Chapter 23

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. The contents of part of this chapter are taken and modified from the last part of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix p 845 on to the end. Please note that some exact phrases are taken from that book for continuity and I lay no claim to those words being mine—they are JK Rowling's!

**XXIII. Returning Home**

**HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED RETURNS**

_ In a brief statement Friday night, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned to this country and is active once more._

_ "It is with great regret that I must confirm the wizard styling himself Lord—well, you know who I mean—is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe that the dementors are currently taking direction from Lord—Thingy. _

_ "We urge the magical population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defense that will be delivered free to all Wizarding homes within the coming month."_

_ The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the Wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumors that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more."_

_ Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening._

_ Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards, and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was unavailable for comment last night. He has insisted for a year that You-Know-Who was not dead, as was widely hope and believed, but recruiting followers once more for a fresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile the Boy Who Lived—_

Draco put his copy of the _Sunday Prophet_ down swiftly, taking a gulp of coffee.

"I knew they'd drag him in somehow," Draco said, pushing the paper over to Blaise, who'd been reading over his shoulder.

"Well, of course they would," Blaise muttered, taking the paper and continuing to read. "And I personally believe that we should all refer to the Dark Lord as Lord—Thingy—from now on."

Draco regarded his friend, who smirked as he continued reading, "Oh yes, you think you're so clever, don't you?"

Draco turned back to his breakfast. He was sure the Dark Lord had not meant for his cover to be blown so early. Things would be changing rapidly now. Fear acts as quite the catalyst. He contemplated what this might mean for their return at the end of the term. Malfoy Manor was still the Dark Lord's headquarters, but it was also home. Would it even feel like it though, with whatever the Dark Lord had planned and Death Eaters lingering about? Draco shook these thoughts from his head. No use worrying over things he had no control over. He quickly finished his breakfast in silence before excusing himself to go visit Arabella in the Hospital Wing. She was supposed to be out soon, but her continued headaches had kept her under Madam Pomfrey's watchful gaze. As he was turning up the steps, none other than the Boy Who Lived himself was coming down into the Entrance Hall.

"Potter," Draco snarled as he passed.

"She's not taking visitors," Potter said coldly.

"That's for her to decide and not you."

"Just stay away from her," Potter said.

"I'd like to say the same to you," Draco snarled right back. "But we both know neither of us is going to back down. And she'll be coming home with me this summer. Again."

Potter's eyes narrowed, "We'll see about that, especially now that everyone knows your father is a Death Eater."

"And your father is dead, just like you will be soon," Draco countered.

"Yeah, but at least we're not scumbags."

Draco's hand flew toward his wand, but Potter had obviously anticipated it. His wand was drawn before Draco even had a chance to touch his own.

"Potter!"

A voice rang across the entrance hall; Snape emerged from the staircase leading down to his office.

"What are you doing, Potter?" said Snape coldly as ever, as he strode over to the pair of them.

"I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir," said Potter fiercely.

Snape stared at him.

"Put that wand away at once," he said curtly. "Ten points from Gryff—"

Snape looked toward the giant hourglasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile.

"Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hourglass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to—"

"Add some more?"

Professor McGonagall had just stumped up the stone steps into the castle. She was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked quite well, considering her run in with Umbridge the night of their Astronomy O.W.L.

"Professor McGonagall!" said Snape, striding forward. "Out of St. Mungo's, I see!"

"Yes, Professor Snape," said Professor McGonagall, shrugging off her traveling cloak. "I'm quite as good as new."

She passed off her cloak and bag to a couple of passing Gryffindors. They shuffled off to deposit her things in her office.

"Right then," said Professor McGonnagall, looking up at the hourglasses on the wall, "well, I think Potter and his friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who! What say you, Professor Snape?"

"What?" snapped Snape, though Draco guessed he'd heard perfectly well. "Oh—well, I suppose..."

"So that's fifty each for Potter, the two Weasleys, Longbottom, Miss Granger, and Miss Bella," said Professor McGonagall, and a shower of rubies fell down into the bottom bulb of Gryffindor's hourglass as she spoke. "Oh—and fifty for Miss Lovegood, I suppose," she added, and a number of sapphires fell into the Ravenclaw's glass. "Now, you wanted to take ten from Mr. Potter, I think, Professor Snape—so there we are..."

A few rubies retreated into the upper bulb, leaving a respectable amount below nevertheless.

"Well, Potter, Malfoy, I think you ought to be outside on a glorious day like this," Professor McGonagall continued briskly.

Potter wasted no time in pocketing his wand and hurrying out the door, so Draco, with a final glance at Snape, returned to his path towards the hospital wing.

The last Thursday of the term, Draco had his regularly scheduled meeting with Snape. It was brought to Draco's attention in this private meeting that Arabella was rather apprehensive about—even resistant to—returning to Malfoy Manor for the summer holidays. Days prior, they had each received a letter from Draco's mother, detailing the plans for their return. Because Arabella was still in the hospital wing when the letters came, Draco was able to read both letters, which proved quite illuminating. In Arabella's letter, Narcissa was bubbly and informative—obviously excited to have Arabella home again but wanting everything to be in order. Draco's, while lighthearted at first, took on a darker tone, warning of the Dark Lord's growing impatience and the subdued atmosphere that had descended over the house since the newly escaped Death Eaters had arrived—a darkness that had only worsened after the failed break-in at the Ministry. Both letters instructed them to return looking their very best, as it would be their first occasion to meet the Lestranges—Bellatrix being Narcissa's sister and Draco's aunt. Apparently, this was what caused Arabella so much anxiety, anxiety she had voiced to Snape after being released from the hospital wing the day prior. She felt unable to cope with the idea of exchanging pleasantries with such notorious killers, especially those who had tortured Neville Longbottom's parents. Not to mention the fact that Bellatrix had sort of landed Arabella an extended stay at the hospital wing following their first "unofficial" encounter.

Draco wasn't entirely sure how he felt about it all. He had heard stories of Bellatrix all through his childhood. She and Narcissa had been close growing up, and the emptiness left by her imprisonment was vast in Narcissa's mind. Draco couldn't deny he was excited and intrigued by his aunt—desiring to learn as much as he could from her. She was one of the Dark Lord's most trusted.

"I don't really know..." Draco trailed off after Snape had laid out all of Arabella's concerns.

"You don't need to respond to me," Snape cut in. "Just understand what I'm telling you."

"But what am I supposed to do with it?" he said, sneering.

"Be aware. Don't leave Arabella lone with any of the new Death Eaters. Attempt to put her at ease," Snape supplied.

"How?"

"I'm a teacher, not a crystal ball, Draco. You'll have to adapt to whatever situations arise. And with your Aunt Bellatrix, that could be anything."

Saturday morning, Draco went down to breakfast as soon as it was served. The Great Hall was mostly empty. Strangely enough, however, Arabella was already at breakfast when he arrived. Much to Draco's continual dismay, she was with Potter and wearing Muggle clothing—hideously baggy gray sweatpants and a graphic t-shirt with some illegible, sparkly script. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun on top of her head. She looked like she'd just rolled out of bed.

He watched her throughout breakfast. She and Potter were seated beside each other, and Arabella had swung her feet up onto the bench to face him, clutching a mug and a piece of toast, chatting away happily. At one point Potter said something that made her laugh so hard she turned red and nearly had to spit out her tea. She turned back to the table, gasping and admonishing Potter, who just beamed at her.

Disgusting. Bloody Saint Potter.

Draco retired to the Slytherin dormitory to shower and dress. The bathroom was emptier than usual, so Draco let himself take extra time and care getting ready. He combed and gelled his hair for the occasion, donning his best non-Hogwarts robes that were acceptable for travel. Clutching his leather book bag, he made his way up from the Dungeons and down the front lawn towards the Hogsmeade station, where Arabella was supposed to meet him. When she did arrive on the platform, she was still dressed in Muggle clothing—though not what she'd been wearing earlier. Her hair was braided down her back, as she normally reserved for Quidditch matches, and Draco was sure she was wearing trainers of two very different colors. His mother would be appalled.

"I'm sitting with my friends this time," she said as they passed him. He reached out to grab her wrist, whirling her around to face him.

"No you are not. And you are not wearing _that_ home," he said looking her up and down once more, still holding her wrist firmly. "You'll give my mother a heart attack."

When he looked up, he found a dozen wands trained on him. Not only had her Golden Quartet members come to her aid, but others from all houses had come out of the woodwork, most likely members of Dumbledore's Army, or whatever they called their little club.

"Let go, Malfoy," she said firmly.

He had no choice but to do so, not desiring to be hexed into a slug and stashed in an overhead compartment for the train ride.

"I'll see you in London," he called after her, boarding the train to find Blaise and the others.

As Draco stowed his book bag in an overhead compartment of the train, he received comments on his hair, which he had stopped gelling regularly after their second or third year at Hogwarts. Thankfully, Blaise refrained from asking about Arabella. They passed most of the train ride eating sweets from the trolley and trying to keep Theo from moping too severely. Draco, quite guiltily, was glad that Theo was taking up most of his energy. They played two very intense and competitive games of Wizard Chess, which stymied Draco's intense desire to go looking for Arabella (and therefore, trouble).

As they approached London, Theo's depression worsened. Crabbe also visibly deflated the closer they got, but at least he had a mother at home.

"I'm sure you'll be coming to Malfoy Manor," Draco assured Theo after he lamented at returning to an empty house. "It will be like a sleep-over."

"And you can come over to my place when you get sick of Draco and Bella," Blaise assured Theo with a lopsided grin.

"As if that's likely to happen," Draco scoffed, feigning insult.

Theo didn't even raise his eyes at their jest. Instead, he gathered his belongings silently as the train began to slow to a stop into the station.

"I'll try and come over as soon as you send a go-ahead," Blaise whispered to Draco so Theo couldn't hear. Draco nodded in understanding. Even though he might want to hide away in his room, having friends around would only help Theo. Draco could foresee a number of get-togethers being planned for this summer.

The three boys disembarked the train together. Narcissa was waiting alone, wringing her hands nervously. Draco didn't know why he had expected his father to be there, but he was almost hurt by his absence, even though it made sense following the events at the Ministry. Narcissa's knit brow relaxed into a contented smile as she saw the boys.

"Welcome home!" she embraced Draco first, then the other two—but only politely, as effusive emotion and affection was looked down upon in Pureblood society, most especially in public.

Narcissa quickly informed Theo that he would indeed be coming to stay with them, unless he'd rather go somewhere else. She politely, but firmly, insisted that his going home alone was not going to happen.

"Now," she sighed heavily when Theo had conceded, her brow knitting in worry again, "where's Arabella?"

"She insisted on riding with her friends," Draco said quietly, as he began searching the platform.

"Wearing Muggle clothing," Blaise supplied, wickedly.

Draco punched his arm.

"Didn't she get my letter?" Narcissa asked, beginning to wring her hands again.

Draco sent Blaise a withering look. He just _had_ to be obnoxiously detailed, didn't he? And now she was all worked up.

"That's easy to fix, Mother," Draco assured her, and then he finished under his breath, "once we find her."

Blaise said his goodbyes, promising to visit, while Theo, Narcissa and Draco began making their way slowly from one end of the platform to the other in search of Arabella.

"You don't think she ran away? Onto the Muggle platform?" Narcissa's panic was laced with her obvious disdain at the Muggle part of the train station.

Draco had no words of comfort for his mother. The platform was clearing and Arabella was no where to be found.

"Your father is going to be furious with me," Narcissa whispered.

"No, Mother, it's my fault," Draco assured her, not wanting her to fear any repercussions from his father—or Arabella's. He would take the blame for this if she had indeed run off.

Just as Draco was beginning to panic, he saw a trio of people come through the barrier between platforms nine and ten from the Muggle side. Between the red-headed Weasley parents was Arabella, looking down and wiping her face with her hands. Both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had an arm around her, and Mrs. Weasley was whispering to her.

"There she is," Draco said finally.

"Thank Merlin! But what is she doing with...no matter."

They approached, Narcissa pulling herself up to her full height and lifting her chin proudly.

"Narcissa," Mr. Weasley greeted her, as Mrs. Weasley was still speaking in low tones to Arabella.

"Arthur, Molly," Narcissa sniffed, and then more gently, "Arabella, we'd thought we'd lost you!"

She opened her arms to receive her charge and future daughter-in-law, but had to drop her arms in disappointment when Arabella didn't move. She was muttering something as she turned away from them and into Molly Weasley's arms, wiping her face furiously, "I don't know why I'm crying. Why am I crying?"

"Sorry for the delay," Mr. Weasley continued. "She wanted to come say hello to everyone and wish everyone a good summer, you know."

"Who is _everyone_?"

"Oh, just our family and Andromeda...some former professors of Hogwarts—you know Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody, I assume?—the usual," Mr. Weasley said nonchalantly, but his point was made. On the other side of the barrier were any number of Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix. A signal would bring them all forth, and it was a sign of great respect that they had escorted Arabella back alone, rather than with an entourage—or worse, not returning her at all.

"Very well. Thank you for escorting her safely to us," Narcissa said coldly. "Arabella, come. We're already late."

Arabella gave a hug and a thanks to both of the Weasley parents, both parties promising to write often.

"Go on," Mrs. Weasley said finally, pushing Arabella gently forward.

"We must get you out of those clothes before we get home," Narcissa said, her disgust for the Muggle clothing on Arabella's frame barely concealed.

"I have a change of clothes in my bag," Arabella supplied lamely.

"Narcissa?" Mrs. Weasley called as they turned to leave. "May I have a word?"

Narcissa paused, obviously feeling no desire to prolong the exchange further. Draco kept walking with Arabella and Theo as his mother turned back.

"From one mother to another?" Mrs. Weasley said quietly, Draco could barely hear and he was sure Arabella hadn't.

"Draco? Why don't you and Theo escort Arabella over to the ladies' room so she can change?"

"Of course, Mother," Draco said, taking Arabella's arm a little possessively, not wanting her to run for it.

They walked away as Narcissa lingered to talk with Mrs. Weasley. No one dared break the silence as they made their way back to the opposite end of the platform where the restrooms were. Narcissa returned at about the same time Arabella exited, miraculously looking put together in proper robes that included a floral skirt, white blouse and unassuming plum robes. Her hair, which had been braided, was now pulled away from her face with a headband, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves.

Narcissa beamed at her as though she were her actual daughter, adjusting her hair so it fell down her back, complimenting her choice of attire.

"I didn't know what color to wear, so I chose my favorite," Arabella said, obviously nervous.

As they approached the Wizarding exit to the platform, they were met by several of the Dark Lord's faithful followers, like Goyle Sr., who had taken their own children home before returning to help Narcissa escort them home. Their trunks were taken up by Goyle and Warrington. Bulstrode took Theo, while Narcissa took a hand of Draco and Arabella in each of her own. They apparated home. Upon their arrival, Lucius met them in the entrance hall where house elves quietly took their cloaks and book bags. The family's head house elf took Theo aside to show him his room, while Draco and Arabella were ushered into the parlor for afternoon tea. Draco quite nearly collided with Arabella, for she had stopped dead in her tracks upon entering. Their collective parents had wasted no time, but had rather thrown them both into the deep end of the pool. Sitting quietly on the couch, their backs to the window were Narcissa's sister, Bellatrix, and her husband, Rodolphus. They stood, as did the Dark Lord, who had been sitting in the wing-backed chair that had its back to the entrance. Draco put his hand on Arabella's back and guided her forward, taking slow steps beside her so she didn't feel overwhelmed. In fact, if he were completely honest with himself, he was terrified as well**.**

"Welcome home, little one," the Dark Lord strode forward to greet Arabella.

Draco took a step back and bowed respectfully. The Dark Lord appraised his daughter, kissing her lightly on her head.

"It looks as though your head wound is healing well," he remarked.

"Yes, thanks to Madam Pomfrey, I won't have a scar," Arabella replied quietly.

"Yes, and thanks to Lucius, you're alive," the Dark Lord reminded darkly.

"I'm sorry," Arabella began coyly, "I thought I fainted on the stairs and Professor Snape was the one to come to my rescue. Or is that no longer the story?"

Draco cleared his throat loudly, hoping to remind Arabella of who exactly she was dealing with. Much to his surprise, the Dark Lord raised his thin lips into a sort of smile.

"I see the slight loss of your memory caused no loss in your cheek," he commented, his voice low. He then turned to the room, "Bellatrix, Rodolphus, I'd like you to meet my daughter, Arabella."

Bellatrix and Rodolphus came forward to bow before Arabella, who had no idea how to react to such an unconventional greeting.

"It is an honor to meet you, my lady," Bellatrix nearly groveled.

"We have heard such wonderful things and are so pleased to finally get to know you," Rodolphus finished.

"The pleasure is all mine," Arabella managed to respond, her voice sounding forced and hoarse. "But please call me Bella."

"Arabella, rather," Lucius interjected.

They bowed again, retreating.

"And this is my son, and your nephew, Draco," Narcissa said, standing proudly just behind Draco, pushing him forward.

They exchanged pleasantries and hand shakes, though not quite as reverently as those given to Arabella.

"Shall we sit for tea?" Narcissa asked.

Arabella paused just a little too long as Lucius and Draco tried to herd her forward.

"I wouldn't want to intrude on your family reunion," she stuttered, motioning from Draco to the Lestranges.

"Nonsense, you are family as well," Lucius said firmly, eying her pointedly.

"That's very kind, but..." she faltered.

"Are you feeling okay?" Draco supplied, thinking back to his meeting with Snape.

"Actually, to be quite honest," she said mocking bashfulness, but sending Draco a grateful glance beneath her lashes, "my headaches have returned, and I'd quite like a rest before dinner."

"Of course, my dear," Narcissa said rushing forward with a comforting arm as if she'd expected it. "I'll have Trinky send up a tray in case you want something after you lie down."

The Dark Lord cleared his throat. Everyone looked to him for his approval. His eyes, however, were trained on Bellatrix. She leapt forward, groveling.

"My sincerest apologies for the injuries I caused you last week, my lady," she said, bowing once more. "I am forever in your debt and at your service."

"It was simply an accident—" Arabella began, trying to wave away the apology amid her discomfort.

The Dark Lord cleared his throat. Again. (Draco couldn't help but conjure an image of a chintz chair and kitten-covered decorative plates.)

"I should have taken great care when it came to your well-being," Bellatrix began again.

"Your apology is most gratefully accepted," Arabella finished after catching her father's pointed gaze. For, of course, she would outrank Bellatrix in the Dark Lord's eyes, and the power hierarchy needed to be set and maintained in all social interactions.

"Thank you, my lady," Bellatrix backed away, her eyes still lowered.

"Very well, little one," the Dark Lord said. "Go rest. I'll have Severus send up a potion for your headache when he arrives."

"Thank you, Father," Arabella said, surprising everyone at her manners and formality.

She said her thank yous and "pleasure to meet you's" before departing. Once gone, the Dark Lord took his leave, citing the same reason his daughter had previously given, the need for a private family reunion.

At quarter to seven, Narcissa made her rounds. She stopped by Draco's room, where he and Theo were hanging out, just as they would at school before heading to Arabella's room to wake her and lay out a dress for dinner. They were to come down by seven thirty for an eight o'clock dinner, dressed semi-formally. So, the boys kept talking until about seven twenty, when Theo left to dress and brush his teeth, leaving Draco to do just about the same.

Everyone convened in the parlor where the Malfoys and Lestranges had taken tea earlier. Right on time, Arabella came down stairs wearing an organza dress in lavender that seemed to float around her like a cloud at sunset. Draco reprimanded himself for being so sentimental.

"You look lovely," Draco said to her as she approached them near the drinks.

"Do you think so?" she asked, sounding unsure, which was very unlike her. "I feel I should go change."

"Why?"

She looked around the room as if it were obvious.

"Why am I the only one dressed in a color other than black?" she asked.

Theo and Draco looked around as well, suddenly realizing what dark colors they had all donned.

"Mother's wearing a dark green," Draco supplied. "Plus, didn't she pick out your dress for the night?"

"Well...yes."

"Then it's perfect. You look wonderful."

Arabella heaved a sigh as Lucius came to hand her a raspberry syrup and club soda, which she took gratefully, with just a hint of pause in her eyes.

"He has a good memory for drinks," Draco whispered in her ear as she took a sip, knowing it was the same drink she'd requested the previous summer when Minister and Umbridge had come for dinner.

"Obviously..."

At that moment, Snape and the Dark Lord entered the parlor, fashionably late as always. Everyone (except Arabella, of course) bowed respectfully at the Dark Lord's entrance. To be expected, the Dark Lord made for his daughter, kissing the top of her head (if you could call it a kiss), before looking her over.

"Feeling better, I hope? Did the tonic Severus send up help at all?"

"I'm afraid it didn't," Arabella said apologetically. "But I had a nice nap and some acetylsalicylic acid on hand, which helped quite a bit."

"Severus, you must be losing your touch," Lucius joked.

"I doubt that," Severus deadpanned, gazing at Arabella through his dark hair.

The adults reconvened around the couches, as Snape came to pour himself a drink.

"How did you know it was a placebo?" he whispered to Arabella, his voice so low Draco had to strain to hear.

"How did you know my headache was fake?" she countered.

Snape finished pouring his drink, then turned around to lean against the bar, taking a sip.

"Madam Pomfrey would not have let you leave unless your headaches were gone."

"Hm, I suppose not...well, there was obviously no willow bark," she said. "It wasn't nearly bitter enough."

"So adding arugula didn't have the desired effect."

"Not strong enough," she concurred. "Perhaps if you used an over-brewed green tea as the base?"

"I'll try that next time."

"Do you make it a habit of making placebos for people? Convincing ones at that?"

"They only need to be convincing if the one taking it knows anything about potions."  
>"I'll take that as a compliment," Arabella responded, beaming a little.<p>

"Do you make it a habit of taking Muggle pharmaceuticals?"

"No one has to know."

"I'm sure your father wouldn't approve."

"He only wouldn't approve if he knew it was aspirin."

"Hm..." Snape trailed off, leaving the three students behind as he made his way to join the adults.

"Hm? Hm! What does 'Hm...' mean?" Arabella said indignantly to herself.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Draco said, coming to stand beside her once more. "I don't think he would ever betray your trust."

"Even to his Lord and Master?"

Draco regarded her for a moment. He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or serious. He decided she was being genuinely and paradoxically both.

"Not on something so trivial as a headache," he said turning back to the room, but not before he caught Arabella's mouth betray a grateful smile.

Dinner was a subdued affair. The adults mostly talked to themselves, leaving Draco, Arabella and Theo to eat in silence, like good children who are seen and not heard. They were involved only when asked how their O.W.L.s went, a question which Arabella handled less than gracefully.

"I suppose we'll know for certain when we get our grades," came her response just before she took a large bite of the rather chewy roast, insuring she wouldn't have to say anything else.

Draco took the lead, "I think we all did well, didn't we Ari? Theo?" He waited for their assenting nods, which Arabella declined to give, before continuing. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

And then, of course, Arabella had to choke on her tea.

"Oh?" the Dark Lord raised the muscles that would have made his eyebrows move, if he'd only had them.

"Sorry, wrong pipe," she supplied unhelpfully.

Draco sent her a look of utter disdain. She'd played along so well, and now she was being a brat.

"I think she's alluding to Potter fainting in History of Magic," Theo spoke up.

Draco shot him a look, but felt obliged to continue—especially at the expense of the Golden Quartet, "And Granger nearly failing her Defense Against the Dark Arts exam."

"And Potter being asked to perform his patronus by an examiner," Theo finished.

Arabella shrugged, taking a more graceful sip of her tea.

All eyes descended upon her expectantly.

"Well, it _is_ a bit out of the ordinary, isn't it?" she asekd.

The Dark Lord peered at her from over his steepled fingertips, "Aside from that, little one?"

"I'd rather not talk about it until after the results are in. I'm too nervous," she began wringing her napkin in her lap, betraying the truth behind her statement.

"Of course, dear," Narcissa patted Arabella's knee from beside her in a motherly way. "We all understand what pressure you tend to put on yourself when it comes to your marks. You know, Bella," she said, turning to her sister, causing Ari to straighten at the use of her name. She slouched upon realizing what was meant, "Draco and Arabella have the highest marks in their class at Hogwarts."

Draco nudged Arabella's leg from underneath the table to keep her from correcting his mother. Technically, Granger had the highest marks, but aside from her, Draco and Arabella were tied for second. Mudbloods didn't really count anyway, right?

"As it should be, as it should be," Rodolphus said, smiling with yellow teeth. "We expect no less from you two, considering your ancestry."

Bellatrix eyed Arabella skeptically. Arabella couldn't raise her eyes from her lap. And Draco was beginning to feel uncomfortable about this whole dinner thing.

Mercifully, they made it through the rest of the meal unscathed. As the adults shared an after dinner drink, the three teens took bowls of ice cream out into the garden to enjoy. Draco and Theo fell into easy conversation, which Arabella endured silently from a nearby bench. After finishing her dessert, she wandered around the garden. Fifteen minutes passed and he couldn't see her, so Draco went after her, sending Theo back inside with their empty bowls.

It turned out that she hadn't gone far. Beneath one of the large oak trees, with its leaves lush and green, she had found one of Lucius' older, retired hunting dogs, lounging in the shade. She had laid down with it, her back against the trunk of the tree, to rub its belly.

"You're such a good boy," she cooed. "I should have brought you my bowl to lick. That would have been a nice treat."

"Dogs don't eat ice cream," Draco announced.

"Perhaps not. But I'm sure he would have obliged to wash my dish."

"We have house elves for that."

"Never mind," she whispered.

Draco took a seat beside her, scratching Copper's ears. They sat there in silence for a long time.

Finally, Draco couldn't help himself, "Where did you go when you left the Platform today?"

"Just what Mr. Weasley said," she replied with a sigh as she looked away.

Draco contemplated this.

"Then why did you come back crying?"  
>It was obvious to Draco she didn't want to answer his question. She looked at him, her eyes boring into his. "Do you really want to know?"<p>

"Yes."

"I didn't want to come back here."

Before Draco could interrogate her further, they were called into the house by his mother. Arabella leapt up without a pause. Draco lingered, allowing her answer to wash over him. He was disappointed. He'd hoped this would become her home.

"Draco!" his mother's voice called out over the gardens once again.

"Coming!" he answered back, standing and brushing the grass and dirt off his pants. He leaned down to give Copper one more scratch before making his way to the sliding doors that led back inside. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. She gazed at him questioningly, which he answered with a weighty look. She nodded. Draco loved his relationship with his mother. Years of practice had given them the ability to converse without words. And he knew as he joined the family in the parlor that she would be visiting him for a bed time chat that night.

Everyone was standing awkwardly near the entrance to the parlor, preparing to say their good nights. Arabella was first to leave, after receiving another round of ostentatious praise and deep bows from the Lestranges.

"Good night, my child," her father kissed her head once more. "I will see you tomorrow after breakfast."

"Yes, sir."

"Let me know how your headaches are doing," Severus called after her with a trace of a smirk only Draco knew to look for.

She didn't dignify his comment with a response.

Draco and Theo bowed out next, quite literally, both attempting not to make fools of themselves in front of the Dark Lord.

Not long after getting to his room, Narcissa arrived, "Your father would like to see you in his study, Draco."

Draco returned his book to his nightstand, standing and putting his shoes back on.

"I'm going to check on Arabella," she said, as they parted ways in the hall. This meant she was neither accompanying him to Lucius' office nor retiring for the evening, so he would undoubtedly see her again that night.

When Draco arrived at his father's office door, it was closed. He knocked lightly, so as not to draw attention from other residents of the house.

"Enter."

Lucius looked up from the book he was perusing, "Ah, Draco." He slammed the thick leather volume shut and replaced it on its shelf.

"You wanted to see me, Father?"

"Yes," Lucius motioned for his son to take a seat in one of the large wing-backed armchairs that sat before his mahogany desk, much like he would a business partner.

"It's time you took on some more responsibility," Lucius began.

Draco barely refrained from rolling his eyes. They had this conversation every time he came home from school, and it always began the same way and ended in nothing but a lecture about upholding the family name.

"Of course, Father. I would be glad to," Draco began. "I was quite hoping to learn about the family business, the maintenance of the estate..." he trailed off, thinking back to his conversation with Snape during the career counseling session.

His father seemed taken aback, "Why, yes. Yes, of course. That would be a good idea, no doubt."

Lucius regarded his son once more. Draco could have sworn a hint of sorrow laced his features. Or at least regret.

"Draco," he began quietly, waving his wand at the door to seal and silence it. "It would also be in your best interest to prepare yourself."

Lucius' pointed gaze was not enough to translate this cryptic message for Draco.

"Prepare myself for what, Father?"

Lucius sighed heavily, "Severus and I are afr—we suspect that the Dark Lord may call you into his service."

"Yes, Father. The Dark Lord mentioned that was plan last summer."

"Well, yes. _Eventually._ But now it seems the plan has accelerated. This may happen quite soon."

Draco regarded his father with a stomach turned to stone, dropping into the abyss of a dungeon beneath the floorboards of the Manor.

"Take the Dark Mark?"

"Yes."

Draco's mouth went dry. He was only sixteen. How could he become a Death Eater? Did he even _want_ to become a Death Eater?

"You will do this, Draco," his father spoke firmly, answering the unspoken question for him. "You will honor the Malfoy name."

"Yes sir, it would be an honor to serve the Dark Lord in any way possible."

"Of course it would. No doubt as Arabella's intended, you will be expected to lead as well. You will make the family proud," Lucius remarked with renewed fervor, waving his wand once more to release the wards.

"I will do my best, Father."

Lucius dismissed his son without affection, their eyes not quite able to meet. Draco suspected it was pride and guilt that prevented him from doing so. He'd sold his family out to the devil himself. And what was Draco to do but follow along? He only hoped they'd end up on the winning side of this Merlin-foresaken war.

Draco hadn't the time nor capacity to ponder his future, for when he arrived back at his bedroom, his mother was there, awaiting him with a plate of cookies and two tall glasses of milk. They sat on the couches in front of the empty hearth, munching and chatting away. Draco filled her in on everything from the end of the school year, to his O.W.L.s and more—things he couldn't or wouldn't tell her in front of the other family members. They didn't discuss Draco's meeting with his father. They both knew what had come to pass, and what would occur in the near future. There was no sense discussing something inevitable, especially when all parties were in the know.

"Mother?" Draco asked once their conversation had died down. "What did Molly Weasley say to you at the train station?"

Narcissa grew quiet and serious in an instant. Draco was concerned he had upset her, but there was no turning back now.

"She explained why Arabella disappeared," Narcissa supplied. "Apparently Arabella wanted to ask if there was any way she could avoid returning to us for the summer—even going so far as to ask to return to the Muggle orphanage."

The disgust at such an idea was evident from Narcissa's expression.

"Molly asked if they might have Arabella over for the last part of the summer again."

Draco regarded his mother, who was looking off into the distance now, lost in thought. This story definitely corroborated what Ari had said in the garden that evening about not wanting to come back.

"Perhaps that would help. A little," Narcissa mused.

She turned to her son, "Are we really so terrible she doesn't want to come home, Draco?"

He hugged his mother fiercely, "No, Mother. Not at all. You are wonderful. This home is lovely. She just isn't used to us."

Narcissa hugged her son back.

"And she's afraid," Narcissa whispered into his ear.

"Yes," Draco confirmed.

They broke apart, not acknowledging this last part of their conversation.

_AN: What did you think? If you've read Bella's Story—what do you think of the current state of Bellatrix's opinion on Arabella compared to what it was in that story? It'll be fun seeing how their relationship progresses! Please Review and tell me what you think! And follow me on Tumblr for extras! CaramelWillowRambles xoxo_


	24. Chapter 24

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter.

**XXIV. Start to a New Summer**

The following morning, despite the events of the previous night, Draco woke earlier than usual, excited to be home. No classes, no homework, no O.W.L.s looming over his head. And no bloody Gryffindors strutting about like kings of the castle. Well, no Gryffindors, except one.  
>"Kridder!"<br>With a _Pop!_ Draco's house elf appeared, bowing so low his nose brushed the ground.  
>"Our guest, Mr. Nott, and Miss Riddle will be having breakfast with me this morning. Here. Have the food ready in half an hour."<br>"Yes, Master," the house elf bowed again, reverently. Almost the way Bellatrix and Rodolphus had bowed to Ari the night before.  
>"And send up a coffee and tea tray immediately."<br>Draco tossed his bed sheets aside, pulling on his black slacks. He donned a clean shirt, tucking it into his pants and fixing the collar as he made his way to Theo's room.  
>"Theo!" he burst in, not bothering to knock.<br>There came a groan from beneath the covers of the bed, where a large lump had centered itself, not bothering to pick a proper side.  
>"It's summer! No school! Get up!"<br>"Bugger off!"  
>"Come on, Theo. Breakfast in my room!"<br>Another groan, and a pillow was thrown in Draco's general direction—in what he could only assume was a poor attempt to hit his head based on the trajectory that missed him by at least two feet.  
>Draco tip toed to the foot of Theo's bed, "Okay," he began in a resigned voice. "I suppose you'll just have to miss out on waffles and Wizard's chess..."<br>And with the last grumble from Theo, Draco picked up the covers and flung them off of his friend, leaving him without anything to maintain the warmth of his sleeping nest.  
>"Draco, you ar—"<br>"Ah, ah, ah!" Draco wagged his finger. "I wouldn't antagonize your host until you've mapped out the entire Manor. Dungeons, oubliettes and everything."

Theo narrowed his eyes at Draco, until the latter's expression broke into a sly grin.

"The beginning of the summer is supposed to be for sleeping, Draco, not for waking up early just as we do at school."

"That's a matter of opinion," Draco replied. "I think we should celebrate the lack of studying before us."

"With waffles and Wizard's chess?" Theo asked skeptically, standing to dress. "You _need_ to sort out your priorities."

Draco chuckled as he took his leave to go wake Ari. When he arrived at her door, he paused just before knocking, his knuckles just an inch from the door. He thought better of it, backing away from the door and returning his hand to his side.  
>"Trinky!" he whispered loudly, and the little elf that served Arabella's every whim (though she had none, it seemed) appeared from the kitchens.<br>"Yes, Master?" she bowed even lower than Kridder, if it were possible.  
>"I want to surprise Miss Riddle. Will you quietly go and see that she is decent?"<br>"Yes, Master. Would you like me to wake her?"  
>"No, no. I will do that myself. I just don't want to enter in case she is changing or...something."<br>"Of course, Master."  
>Trinky entered and returned silently, "She is in her pajamas and tucked into bed nicely."<br>"That will be all."  
>Draco entered the room quietly, leaving his shoes in the hallway so they wouldn't make a sound on the hard wood floors of Ari's room. When he approached her bed, Draco saw she was indeed tucked into bed, curled to one side, breathing deeply. He pulled up a chair from near the sliding doors that led to the balcony, sitting beside her bed, very near where her head lay resting on its pillow.<br>"Ari," he said quietly, just above a whisper. "Time to get up."  
>She didn't stir.<br>"Ariiiiiiiiii, Ariiiiiiiiiiiiiii," he said in a sing-song voice. "Good mooooooorning."  
>She shifted slightly.<br>"Ara-beeeeeeeeeellaaaaaa..."  
>Her eyes snapped open suddenly as she pulled the covers up to her chin in alarm. Draco chuckled in response.<br>"Malfoy! What do you think you're doing?"  
>"Waking you up. We're having breakfast in my room. Up you get."<br>"What in Merlin's name possessed you to enter my room uninvited? What if I'd been indecent?" her voice rose at least one octave as she asked the latter question.  
>Draco smirked mercilessly at her, causing her to flush. Finding her rosy cheeks quite attractive, Draco decided she needn't know he was chivalrous enough to ask Trinky to check on her first.<br>"It's improper!"  
>"Oh, come on," Draco said. "Like you would go to bed in anything you didn't want your father to see you in. We both know he has no regard for your privacy."<br>Arabella paled suddenly, making Draco think she might not have considered this point before.  
>"My father. Your father. Your mother. Snape. Plenty of Death Eaters wandering the house. Seems I'll be dressing like a nun from now on."<br>Draco rolled his eyes at her dramatics, "Come on. Your tea is getting cold."  
>Arabella slid out of bed, donning a robe and slippers. Draco took his leave of her to allow her to get ready, "Theo and I expect you for breakfast. Don't make us come carry you out of here."<p>

Ari appeared as instructed fifteen minutes later, knocking politely at Draco's door to be admitted. Theo and Draco were already on their second and third cups of coffee respectively.  
>"Good morning, Theo."<br>"Good morning, Arabella."  
>"Where's my 'Good morning'?" Draco asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest and narrowing his eyes.<br>"You forfeited it when you invaded my room to wake me up," Ari responded, taking up her tea.  
>"Well, perhaps I can beg your forgiveness with some waffles?"<br>"I'll think about it," she responded, taking the plate Draco offered her with a grin. They all dug in, adding toppings and syrups to their not-so-nutritious breakfasts.  
>"So, what do you want to do today?" Draco asked between bites of food.<br>Ari looked at Theo. Theo back at Ari. They both turned to Draco and shrugged.  
>Draco rolled his eyes, "Incredibly helpful."<br>"Well, what are our options?"  
>Draco listed off all the fun things he usually did during the summer at the Manor.<br>"Do you think we could get permission to go flying?" Ari asked timidly.  
>"I don't know," Draco said skeptically. "Things are pretty strict right now."<br>"I suppose so," she hung her head.  
>They settled on playing games the morning through. Ari even allowed Theo a chance to give her some tips at Wizard's Chess, which he would have immediately won if he hadn't taken mercy on her every single move.<br>"We should have Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle over soon," Draco commented, eyeing Theo out of the corner of his eye. "Cards games are always more fun with more people."  
>Theo deflated slightly, "I suppose."<br>Arabella picked up on his change in tone instantly, "I don't know if I'm up for visitors quite yet, Draco. We only just got home. I'm quite enjoying how subdued it is without everyone about."  
>Theo sent her a grateful glance she gracefully ignored by stacking the Exploding Snap cards to return to their box. They took lunch together, but Ari departed soon afterwards for a book and a nap.<br>"You know," Theo began, "she's not half bad."  
>"No," Draco agreed. "When she wants to be."<br>"What do you mean?"  
>Draco sighed, trying to contemplate how to express himself properly, "Sometimes she's sweet and considerate and compassionate. And other times..."<br>"She's rebellious and indignant and stubborn?"  
>"Yes!" Draco said, glad his friend knew exactly what he was talking about.<br>Theo smirked, "Sounds a lot like someone else I know..." 

Later that afternoon, Draco wandered towards the library in search of a good book. Ari was still napping, and Theo had retired to his room to do the same, leaving Draco without companionship. As he searched the shelves for a good read, occasionally using his wand to pull down a book from higher shelves (thank Merlin his parents didn't take the underage Wizarding laws too seriously), he found his mind wandering further and further from the books at hand.

Despite all the years he'd hoped for a little brother or sister and never gotten one, Draco had reveled in and exploited being the only child. However, Hogwarts had also provided a wonderful escape from solitude at the Manor. There, he always had friends to hang out with and classmates to torment to his heart's content. When he returned home from the holidays, he'd relished the quiet and being spoiled again. Summer holidays were more difficult, especially towards the end, when Draco would find himself lonely and longing for the Slytherin common room again. But now, with Ari now a permanent part of the family, he'd grown accustomed to company. With her home, and Theo visiting, Draco found he rather didn't like being alone.

"Ahem," someone coughed behind Draco, who, startled from his pondering, whipped around to find his aunt Bellatrix leaning against the long table that sat in the middle of the library.

"You really should be more aware of your surroundings," Bellatrix cooed. "Especially with the Dark Lord about, watching your every move."

Draco seemed to have lost his voice, as he attempted to form a coherent response to his aunt, but only silence escaped his gaping mouth.

"Well, then?"

"A-a-aunt Bellatrix, you startled me."

Bellatrix laughed. And Draco mentally kicked his idiocy.

"That was the general idea, Nephew. You'll find, when the time comes for you to join the ranks, the Dark Lord rarely announces himself outside of official meetings."

"So you know, then," Draco said bluntly.

"Of course, child. I was one of the first to know," she puffed herself up with this.

"Yes, it will be an extreme honor to serve him," Draco steeled himself, attempting to mimic his aunt in her confidence that bordered on arrogance.

"Very good, Draco," she smiled viciously. "I almost believed you."

"But-but..."

"Yes, Nephew, I know. It _will _be an honor. You can be sure of that. But you are afraid, that's obvious. Too obvious. And you're terrible at lying about it."

Draco wasn't sure how to respond. Luckily, she didn't give him a chance to formulate a thought.

"Now, now," she said, as she began pacing around him slowly, sizing him up, "your father assures me you are top of your class at Hogwarts."

"Yes," Draco said, not elaborating.

"But I seriously doubt they're teaching you anything of substance," she continued.

"Not really, no," Draco replied with a smirk, know this was the desired response.

"The Unforgiveables?"

"Briefly during fourth year—"

"Ah, yes, your mother told me about that...now, what about Occlumency? Legilimency?"

"No."

"The Patronus?"

"No."

"Protean?"  
>"Not till seventh year."<p>

"Worthless!" she cried, tossing her hands in the air in exasperation. "I say, Hogwarts is getting more and more useless the longer Dumbledore stays there. I think Cissy should send you to Durmstrang, personally."

"Yes, we discussed that before my fourth year."

"But your mother doesn't want you so far from home," Bellatrix said more to herself than to Draco. She'd stopped pacing and was tapping her chin with the long nail of her pointer finger. "Well, then. I suppose we'll just have to supplement your education here at home."

"Pardon?"

"We can't have you joining the ranks of the Dark Lord without knowing how to properly kill someone, or close your mind, or send a message via Patronus, now can we?"  
>"No, I suppose not."<p>

"Very well," she said, pushing up the sleeves of her robes, a vicious smile back on her face. "Let's begin."

Aunt Bellatrix worked with Draco a little bit every day, but often for hours at a time. It was exhausting, but exhilarating. Draco was learning more magic than he ever had at Hogwarts. Useful magic. _Dark_ magic. But it was exhausting. He couldn't decide what was weighing more on him, the physical and mental exertion it took to learn the magic, or the dark nature of it that seemed to suck at the very marrow from his bones.

Things around the Manor seemed to darken and somber a little. Arabella refused to play Exploding Snap with Theo and Draco anymore, insisting it was just "too intense" for her. She begrudgingly agreed to sit and read while they played Wizard's Chess, but often retired to her room alone after just an hour. Theo, too, grew tired of playing the same game over and over. They'd attempted to get permission to go flying, but some excuse was always given as to why they couldn't go. The goings on at the Manor had become even more feverish, with Death Eaters coming and going in a constant hustle and bustle of floating cloaks and flying masks. Whispers of Dementors and giants floated up from the ballroom when Draco and Theo could sneak down to balcony that overlooked the entrance hall to eavesdrop.

"I wonder what's going on," Theo remarked the first time they managed to catch snippets of conversation without being caught.

"Isn't it obvious? The Dark Lord is assembling an army."

"Yes, but besides the obvious collection of soldiers and weapons for the next Wizarding war he plans to wage, I wonder what's going on," he repeated.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's going on _out there_. How does it look to the rest of the Wizarding world? Or the Muggle world, even? Are they blissfully unaware, or are they summoning the troops as well?"

Draco didn't have a response for this. He hadn't even thought of it. But now Theo's perspicacious questions had his own curiosity running full speed ahead. His parents had been very careful to keep all copies of the _Daily Prophet_ neatly hidden away—far away—from Arabella. But surely if he asked, he could read them. He'd make a note to request one from his father the next morning.

"I wondered when you were going to pull your head out of the clouds," his father snapped at him coldly when Draco requested the _Daily Prophet _ after breakfast. "Just make sure Miss Riddle doesn't get her hands on any copies."

Lucius plopped down the entire week's worth of papers on his desk, dismissing his son with a wave of his hand.

"Yes, sir."

From then on, Draco returned to his room with one last cup of coffee and the paper after breakfast each day. He shared the paper with Theo, whose curiosity and intelligence only sharpened Draco's understanding of what was going on, despite the _Prophet's_pathetic spin on the events. Draco quite enjoyed having someone to talk to about what was going on, since such subjects were banned around Arabella. In fact, she'd walked in on several conversations that were cut short abruptly and awkwardly upon her entrance. Something she didn't fail to notice or take to heart.

So it was with great reluctance that Draco saw Theo go towards the end of June, when it was decided he would take up residence with Blaise and his mom until mid-July. Arabella even seemed saddened to see Theo go. They'd enjoyed teasing Draco, something Arabella never did without a co-conspirator, and she was obviously dismayed to have her partner in crime gone. She came to see him off the afternoon he was picked up by Blaise and Mrs. Zabini, but as soon as he was gone, she rushed off to her room to read a book alone.

Thus began the hard process of learning how to get along again, that is, if you could call their previous interactions "getting along" in the first place. Draco and Arabella hadn't had a single spat since arriving home, but then they'd had Theo around as a buffer to make things less strained. And now, they found themselves alone again—the only kids in the household—and with no escape from the Manor itself. Arabella made it known that she felt no obligation or desire to spend time with Draco, but their parents collectively insisted they spend the bulk of their time together. As if on cue, Arabella would roll her eyes dramatically with an exasperated sigh.

To make matters more complicated, Draco's father insisted Draco continue to update him on what was going on between them, as if to keep track of their "budding relationship." And, when Draco had nothing to report but a sulking girl who didn't want to be friends, Lucius would reprimand him and demand results. If anything, Arabella had become even more distant following their return home. It was as if the Manor had some special aura that reminded her why she hated him so much. Things at Hogwarts had been much easier. After all of their study sessions, a successful trip to Hogsmeade, and evening walks to the Astronomy Tower, surely they'd made progress. Progress that had quickly evaporated. The obvious reason was that it was the presence of her father. Or just as probable it was the lack of her friends and the comfort zone she had in Gryffindor Tower. Either way, Draco couldn't artificially manufacture the atmosphere of Hogwarts at Malfoy Manor. He was stuck with the cards he'd been dealt. A fact that his father really didn't care to hear.

They came to an unspoken agreement that most of the time they were forced together could be spent in silence in the same room. Reading, mostly. Occasionally Arabella wrote in her journal, and rarely she would agree to a game.

"Alright," Draco sighed, placing his book on the small table beside the couch that sat before the fireplace in Ari's room. "This is ridiculous."

"Hm?" Arabella didn't bother to look up from the book she was devouring.

"Arabella?"  
>"Mm?"<p>

"We can't go the entire summer sitting in silence."

"Uh huh..."

"It's childish. And ridiculous. And boring."

"Hm..."

"Are you even listening to me?"

As could be expected, there was no response.

"Arabella?"

"Sorry, what?" she shook her head, closing the book but marking her spot with her finger.

"Did you hear a word I said?"

She blushed sheepishly, "Uh, no. This book is actually really good."

Draco sank back into the couch cushions with an exasperated sigh.

"Sorry, was it important?" she asked, opening her book again.

"Only to me," he muttered under his breath.

He sat, staring into the flames for several minutes longer. How could Arabella ever learn to tolerate him if they never talked? He'd rather hoped this summer would mark a turning point in their relationship. They'd gotten along relatively well with Theo around—why couldn't it translate to time alone? Surely, it being her second full summer her, she'd be more comfortable around him?

"You wanted to discuss something?" Arabella's voice floated through his thoughts. He turned to find her sitting up attentively, her book now closed and resting on the coffee table before them.

"Not too engrossed in your book?" he asked bitterly

"Well, to be honest, I'm still not quite sure I didn't leave half myself behind in Albion," she motioned to the book he had lent her from his father's library, "but I finished the chapter I was on..." she trailed off, allowing him an opportunity to talk.

Draco couldn't help but soften. How Arabella loved to escape to far off places in her books.

"It's a good one, isn't it?"

"Oh yes! Thank you for suggesting it—"

And with that she was off and running, discussing in depth the character development and the setting and the author's use of imagery. They entered into a lively debate about Sir Tobit's choice of weapon at the king's tournament and the author's terrible decision to pair the Lady Katarina with Sir Gwaine.

"But she's so _annoying_!" Arabella argued.

"I think that's the point. She balances Gwaine perfectly."

"No! Sir Gwaine needs someone adventurous, witty, intelligent! Not a vapid lady of the court who gossips and shops."

"She's not vapid," Draco countered. "She's just—"

"Vain, emotional and stereotyped!"

"—meticulous."

"Meticulous?! Meticulous. Really?" she said, and then raising her voice to an annoying, breathy imitation of a damsel she continued: "'Oh I can't wear the blue dress, it's wrong for my skin tone! Curl my hair again—it's not perfect! I don't know if I like Sir Gwaine—I'd much prefer Gaston, who eats five dozen eggs and is roughly the size of a barge!'"

"Who's Gaston?"

"Nevermind," she sighed. "I just can't believe you'd pair those two together..."  
>"I'm not saying <em>I<em> would do that, but I can understand why the author did."

"Ugh. Impossible."

"Try not to take my opinions on romantic pairings in historical fiction against me, okay?" Draco said, as a tray of tea and cookies arrived from the kitchens.

Arabella laughed lightheartedly, "I suppose I'll try."

They sat in contented silence, munching on cookies and drinking tea.

"So what were you trying to say earlier when I was ignoring you?" she asked between bites.

"So you admit you were ignoring me?" he teased.

"Not _intentionally_, per say...the book was just more interesting."

"I see, so fiction is more interesting than reality, is that what you're trying to say?"

"Yeah, basically!" she said, far too cheerily.

Draco caught himself smiling. He contemplated whether or not it was even worth bringing up his original thought, since they'd just had a lively discussion that had left neither of them wounded or angry. He looked at her, drinking in her appearance.

"Nothing," he said, looking away finally. "I will say, though, it's rather nice to talk to you for a change."

"I guess I'll take that as a compliment."

"Good, it was meant as one," Draco said, a little too bluntly. "I'd very much like it if you could find some happiness here."

She looked away, the smile on her face fading instantly.

"I thought...well, I'd hoped, at least...that you were beginning to like it here, at Malfoy Manor," he continued.

Arabella didn't respond. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She quickly realized this, and pressed her lips together, looking away from Draco.

"Well, if not like it, than at least tolerate it," he amended, his hopes drying up with his voice.

Draco was surprised when a laugh escaped her lips. It sounded more like a sigh, but her smile gave it away.

"I tolerate it quite well, thank you."

They were silent for a moment. Arabella finished her tea.

"I'd like it very much if we could be friends," Draco said finally.

"I know."

Draco sighed, and stood, leaving his book on the side table in hopes that they would pick up this discussion the next day. "Okay, well, I suppose it's time for bed."

"Yes, looks like it."

"Good night, Arabella."

"Good night, Draco."

He turned and strode to the door.

"And Draco?"

He looked back, his hand already on the door knob.

"Maybe we could play Exploding Snap tomorrow?"

Draco was taken aback, especially after she'd sworn off the game not two weeks ago and refused any other form of interaction with him, "Oh?"

"That is, if you promise not to be as ruthlessly competitive about it as you were with Theo here."

He nodded and smiled, "Okay. Promise."

"Okay."

And she picked her book back up, opening easily to where she'd left off.

It was a start.

_AN: Sorry this took forever and a day to write. I kept re-writing this chapter, but I'm posting it tonight because I'd love to move on with the story._

_That being said, I have most of the next chapter written...and if I get a fair number of reviews, I'll post is as a bonus this weekend-*hint hint* And if I get lots of followers on tumblr, I'll post some extras there too!_

_Thanks to all you faithful followers who put up with my sporadic updates. Lovelovelove!_


	25. Chapter 25

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Harry Potter. Several direct quotes are taking from JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (pp 39 and on). These quotes are not mine and are used to keep the continuity of the story only.

_AN: Thanks to all of you who reviewed! I hope that next chapter (Ch 26, which I hope to get out next weekend!) will provide some fluff for those who want Bella to be a little kinder, but you'll just have to wait and see what happens after that! Please continue to leave me your thoughts and suggestions. To my **Guest** reviewer with the question about the possible threat to Bella: I'm not sure exactly what you are referring to. But, yes, there are many threats to Bella from various sources that I hope will be fully explained later. If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me for details!_

_Also, a heads up that I've moved the summer time line a bit from that of the books. I tried to make sure events happen in the correct order, even if they don't happen on the correct date. Please R&R!_

**XXV. The Dark Mark**

A door slammed, and Draco sat up, startled awake. He silently summoned his wand, lighting it with a flick. In the faint glow of the light, he could see three cloaked and masked figures standing silently at the foot of his bed.

"Your presence has been requested, and you will appear before the Dark Lord."

The bottom of Draco's stomach dropped, and he was positive he would be sucked into the black hole that was currently occupying his innards.

"As he wishes, it would be my honor," Draco said, without realizing it. Thank Merlin his mind was straight, even if his large intestine was currently knotting itself to trim the sails with his stomach.

Draco was allowed exactly one minute to clothe himself in something other than Slytherin sweatpants. He furiously donned all black attire, with his best robes and shoes. His wand was confiscated, and he was marched ceremoniously to the ball room, where the Dark Lord was currently holding court.

There he found, in the faint firelight, _all_of the Death Eaters in good standing. They were clothed in full regalia, each with his or her own mask, but cloaked in identical, hooded robes that pooled around the hands and feet. The Dark Lord sat on a large chair just outside the circle of his followers. One of the three Death Eaters that had summoned Draco stepped forward to hand his master Draco's wand before all three returned to their designated positions in the circle.

"Step forward, young Malfoy," the Dark Lord spoke, as he regarded Draco's wand carefully. "And your wand?"

Draco stepped silently into the center of the circle, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of being the center of attention. "Hawthorn, 10 inches, unicorn hair core, my Lord."

"Reasonably pliant," the Dark Lord finished, as if he'd been in the shop when Mr. Ollivander had first sold Draco the wand.

"Yes, my Lord."

"It is my intent, young Malfoy, to welcome you into the ranks of my faithful followers," he stated, stepping up from his regal seat and twirling the wand in his hands.

"It would be an honor, my Lord."

Expecting some sort of lecture, torture, or at least a brief speech, Draco was startled when the Dark Lord motioned two figures forward and retreated back to his throne-like seat.

The two Death Eaters approached, facing Draco with their backs to the Dark Lord.  
>"Do you swear to dedicate yourself to the service of the Dark Lord?" the first figure asked, revealing himself to be Severus Snape.<br>"I do," Draco replied, curtly.  
>"Do you vow to uphold the values and integrity of the Pureblood lineage?" the second asked dramatically, obviously Bellatrix.<br>"I do."  
>"Will you do everything in your power-even sacrificing your life and the lives of the ones you love-to do the bidding of your master?"<br>"I will."  
>"Will you protect and defend your fellow Death Eaters?"<br>"I will."  
>Bellatrix and Severus backed away, allowing the Dark Lord to step forward once again.<br>"An additional oath for the young Draco Malfoy..." the Dark Lord said, twirling Draco's wand between his long, bony fingers. "Do you swear to protect, defend and honor my daughter, even over your fellow Death Eaters?"  
>"I do."<br>"The Dark Lord will hold you to that, Draco Malfoy. You will do whatever is in your power to keep her safe. Following my orders is the only thing that will precede that."  
>"Yes, my Lord," Draco bowed in agreement.<br>The Dark Lord approached Draco, motioning to his left arm. As Draco rolled the sleeve of his shirt up, Bellatrix stepped forward to take Draco's wand from the outstretched hand of her master. The Dark Lord retrieved his own wand from within his voluminous robes, then took Draco's wrist in one of his frigid and slender hands, lifting his wand dramatically in the air as if preparing for a duel.  
>"I would have quite liked to see your hand at magic tonight. I want to know my Death Eaters have the stomach for torture—both given and taken—before they earn their Mark. However, you will not be put through the usual initiation tasks...for my <em>daughter's<em> sake.," the Dark Lord said, his voice low. "Nonetheless, I expect great things from you, Draco Malfoy."

Without waiting for a response, the Dark Lord pressed his wand into the pale flesh of Draco's forearm, _"Morsmordre Proteus."_  
>Draco's knees nearly buckled from the pain. It felt like he was being branded and cut at the same time. The searing, biting, prickling pain caused dark spots to appear before his eyes. He didn't pass out, and he didn't scream, but the pain, he knew, was evident in his face. When at last, the Dark Lord retreated, the pain continued. There was muffled applause from the Death Eaters encircling Draco. In the forefront of his mind, he could only hear the pounding of his heart. Someone came forth with a mask, another with a cloak, and as he donned his Death Eater garb, he was ushered to his spot in the circle.<br>"Well done, Draco," Bellatrix was whispering in his ear from his right as she placed him where he should go before returning to her spot closer to the Dark Lord.  
>"And so, we welcome our newest and <em>youngest<em> Death Eater into our midst."  
>There was applause again, followed by a brief speech by the Dark Lord. Draco could barely hear, he was so distracted by the pain. He didn't know if he could bear it much longer, feeling the sole desire to retire to his bed with a bag of ice on his forearm. He did catch snippets of important phrases, most regarding the honor of serving, the importance of pure bloodlines, and something about Arabella he didn't quite catch. When he thought he could stand no longer, they were finally dismissed to the beds they had been dragged from so early in the morning.<p>

It was too bright. Why was it so bright? The sun was burning. It was hot and searing. Why was he so close to the sun? Blurry images of dark cloaks and creepy masks invaded the blinding, white light that accompanied the burning pain...and Draco suddenly came to his senses. He sat bolt upright in his bed, which he hadn't remembered making it back to the night before. Just as suddenly as he was upright, he fell back against the pillows, clutching his spinning head with his good hand.  
>"Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhhh."<br>A cup of coffee appeared on the bedside table.  
>Draco groaned again, but took a thankful sip. He extricated a damp towel from around his left arm, no doubt it had been cold and wrapped by his mother or a house elf after he'd passed out the night before. The skin of his left forearm was red and slightly swollen. An inky black image of a skull spitting a long, intricately designed snake out its mouth branded him the Dark Lord's. He traced the lines of the tattoo gently with his finger. Strange. He'd never seen a Dark Mark up close. And now he had his very own to stare at forevermore.<br>"Eeeeergggh."  
>Draco sipped his coffee slowly, and when he was done he curled back under the covers for some time. The pain in his arm wasn't waning, so he climbed out of bed, replaced his clothes from the night before with the aforementioned Slytherin sweatpants and stumbled towards the bathroom. After splashing his face and neck with water, he took the damp towel and ran it under cold water, rang it out, and wrapped his arm again. He plopped down on the floor of his bathroom, pressing his cheek against the cold tile, trying to force the heat inside him to subside.<p>

The Dark Mark. Well, after years of touting pure bloodlines and an extreme dislike of Harry Potter, he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord, his future father-in-law and most powerful wizard of the age. And now, he would do his bidding and pander to his ego and marry his daughter...all while hiding from her the brilliant black tattoo that took up the entire lower half of his left arm.

After a while of thinking and lying pathetically on the floor, Draco took a cold shower and dressed for the day despite his discomfort and relative bad mood. A breakfast tray awaited him when he exited the bathroom, laden with foods and an odd smelling potion beside his re-filled coffee mug. He downed the potion first, without question, and was glad of it. It brought instant relief to the flames blazing inside of him.

When he was nearly done with his breakfast, Severus came to check on him.

"I come bearing the morning _Prophet_," he commented, plopping down at the table and helping himself to a cup of coffee from the tray.

Draco picked up the paper in one hand, a piece of bacon in the other and read as he munched. The front page article declared loudly:

**Scrimgeour Succeeds Fudge**

_ Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appointment has largely been greeted with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though rumors of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office. _

_ Scrimgeour's representatives admitted that he had met with Dumbledore at once upon taking possession of the top job, but refused to comment on the topics under discussion. Albus Dumbledore is known to (ctd. page 3, column 2)._

"So, did Fudge resign or was he forced out?" Draco said, not bothering to turn the page.

Severus thought for a moment, "Yes."

Draco nodded.

"And now that you've taken the Mark, you get let in on the back story," Severus said, lowering his voice and glancing towards the door as though someone might burst in at any moment. "The Dark Lord ordered Cornelius Fudge to step down as Minister of Magic. He threatened a mass killing of Muggles if Fudge didn't do as he was told."

"And, I take it, Fudge didn't do as he was told."

"No, because that would be 'caving to blackmail' or some such thing. Well, did you see the vignette about the Brockdale Bridge in the paper a few days ago?"

"Uh, yeah, the Muggle bridge," Draco began, and then it dawned on him. "...oohhhh."

"Yes, the Dark Lord had Bellatrix and the Carrows attack the bridge..."

"I can extrapolate the rest," Draco assured Severus, taking another sip of his coffee.

"You did quiet well last night," Severus said after a moment of silence. "Not everyone can take the Mark with so little a reaction."

"Yes, well, the Dark Lord was merciful in refraining from testing me."

"You proved yourself, nonetheless," Severus said, looking proudly at his godson.

"I suppose I have you to thank for the potion this morning."

"You're welcome," Severus said, standing to take his leave. "You'll be expected at the meeting this afternoon. Otherwise, you're expected to keep to yourself. I'll send some more potion up with your lunch."

"Thank you."

Severus was almost out the door when Draco spoke again, "Why _did_ the Dark Lord refrain from testing me?"

Severus turned back to regard Draco, his dark hair falling over his eyes slightly, "Did the Dark Lord not explain his reasons?"

"He did. He said it was for Arabella's sake. Whatever that means."

"Then that is why," Severus said curtly. "Now get some rest so your arm will heal quickly."

And he was out the door.

Draco snoozed the morning away, reading by the fire and packing his arm in ice magically replenished from the kitchens. His mother came to check on him, assuring him that she was keeping Arabella distracted and he had no cause to worry she would come knocking uninvited.

Lunch was accompanied by a potion, as promised, and a reminder that the meeting was scheduled for two o'clock in the ballroom. So, after eating, Draco donned all black once more and went downstairs, hoping someone would guide him to his spot in the Death Eater circle. He didn't think he could remember where he'd stood the night before. The others were mingling when he entered the ballroom, but broke into polite applause when Draco entered. He bowed and waved the applause away politely, as Bellatrix approached.

"Hello, Nephew," she said, steering him away from some of the others.

"Good afternoon, Aunt Bellatrix."

"I trust you have no idea where to stand," she said quietly, smirking mercilessly.

"None whatsoever," he confirmed.

"Well," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "considering that, upon receiving the Dark Mark, Crabbe over there cried and Karkaroff—you know him, the traitor and former headmaster of Durmstrang—collapsed and begged for mercy, you proved yourself worthy last night."

Draco wasn't sure how to respond. It was the highest compliment, and likely the only compliment, his aunt would ever pay him.

"Now, stand here. We'll be in a crescent formation for the meeting today," and she walked off. As the rest of the Death Eaters assembled, he made note of their locations so he could remember where to stand when they formed the circle again.

The Dark Lord swept in, his robes billowing behind him, taking a seat on the edge of the large chair that perched on the dais at the front of the ballroom.

"As some of you know," he addressed the room without pretense. "I was approached several weeks ago by Fenrir Greyback."

There was a murmur among the crowd, which the Dark Lord ignored by speaking over them.

"Many of you should remember he served us well during the First Wizarding War. And he, along with his werewolf pack, have returned to offer their services once again."

The Dark Lord stood and began pacing before the assembly, arms clasped neatly behind his back, wand still in one hand, "Now, I believe Greyback and his pack are still of good use to us. So we will welcome them with open arms. However," he paused for emphasis. "We will remember his ultimate goal is to infect enough young people with lycanthropy to overthrow the Wizarding race. This is, of course, complete folly," he said with a grimace meant to be a smile, as the Death Eaters present chuckled to themselves at the ridiculousness of such a thought. "And we will be ever vigilant when dealing with these werewolves, yes?"  
>"Yes, my Lord," the group said in chorus.<p>

"Very good," he finished.

With a flick of his wand, the doors to the ballroom slammed open, "Greyback! You may enter."

A large man with mangy hair gray hair and whiskers entered, stalking crudely forward to present himself before the Dark Lord. His dark robes, obviously meant to be those of a Death Eater, were too tight, straining the buttons and seams, and his nails were yellow, long and claw-like. He swept his robes aside dramatically with one arm as he knelt before the Dark Lord.

"Rise," the Dark Lord sniffed, turning away from the werewolf and returning to his seat.

"It is an honor to meet with you once more, my Lord," Greyback said, his voice rough and husky. He smiled, revealing teeth that were pointed like fangs, though the full moon was a ways off still.

"The offer of your services is much appreciated, Greyback," the Dark Lord began, twirling his wand before the werewolf as if to remind him he had no wand, and therefore, no power. "I will welcome such services as long as the following conditions are met.

"Of course, my Lord. Anything you wish."

"Rightly so," the Dark Lord said, standing. "Firstly, you will follow all of my commands as though you had a proper Mark without the benefit of receiving one."

"As before, I have served you without wavering and without a Mark. I will continue to do so."

"Secondly, you will control every member of your pack. If you fail to do so, I will eliminate as many of your pack as I see fit. Thirdly—" the Dark Lord continued, not allowing Greyback to interrupt. "You will position yourself far away from this Manor during the full moon."

"As you wish it," Greyback bowed.

"And lastly, Greyback. You and your kind will stay far away from my daughter," the Dark Lord said, brandishing his wand threateningly. "You will not look at her. You will not speak to her. You will not touch her. Or you will feel my wrath like no man nor beast has felt it before."

Greyback didn't flinch, didn't waver, just smiled and nodded, "Of course, my Lord."

"Very well, welcome back."

With a wave of his wand, the doors opened again, and Greyback took his leave looking altogether too smug. After the doors had shut behind the werewolf, the Dark Lord continued with a few additional items of business before dismissing everyone.

"Inner Circle, you will stay," he said quietly after the dismissal. "And young Draco."

Draco stopped where he was, halfway to the door and freedom. He bowed and returned.

"Draco, you will sleep in Arabella's room tonight. Just to be sure Greyback doesn't decide to test the boundaries."

"Yes, my Lord."

"She needn't know."

"Of course, my Lord."

"Very well, you are dismissed."

Draco bowed, taking his leave as the Dark Lord lowered his voice to address his Inner Circle.

Although Draco had promised to watch over Arabella that night, he was thankful the Dark Lord had said she needn't know he was doing so. He hadn't planned on seeing her, still wanting some distance after taking the Dark Mark. He had this delusional feeling that she would take one look at him and know that he was a Death Eater. Of course, that was impossible, but he felt as if the sleeve of his shirt was transparent and there was a large red sign pointing to his arm.

So, after he was sure Arabella had already gone to sleep, Draco donned his black robes, left his shoes behind in his room and plodded down the hall to her room. He carefully cast a silencing charm on the door before entering and tip-toeing to the couch. He sank quietly into the cushions, pulling the quilt off the back of the couch onto his lap. The book he'd left the night before was still resting on the beside table, and he took it up, lighting his wand so he could see the pages.

He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he heard the door creek open. A shadow of a figure was cast on the floor of the bedroom from the light in the hallway. Draco, still bleary eyed from sleep, didn't bother to think of the consequences of his actions before acting.

"_Stupefy!_"

The figure who had entered easily blocked the spell with a silent wave of his wand, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

Draco scrambled to his feet, almost tripping as he tried to untangle himself from the quilt.

"My Lord," he whispered, bowing low before the Dark Lord, who cast a silencing spell over the room so Arabella wouldn't overhear them.

"My deepest apologies," Draco said in a normal tone of voice. "I didn't realize it was you."

"Any competent Wizard can block a simple Stunning Spell," the Dark Lord said, approaching the foot of Arabella's bed to gaze over her sleeping form. "However, a wandless werewolf..." he trailed off, turning to leave.

With the door half open the Dark Lord looked back, "She's in good hands."

And he was gone.

It was likely the closest thing Draco would ever come to praise from the Dark Lord. And to think, it'd come on the same day as a near-compliment from Aunt Bellatrix.

When dawn broke, Draco folded the quilt he'd used and replaced it and the pillows back where they belonged on Arabella's couch. After checking that she was still sound asleep, he sneaked back down the hallway to his room. He climbed in bed for an additional hour of sleep before rising to shower and dress anew for the day. He supposed today was as good as any to face Arabella, though the feeling she'd know about the Dark Mark as soon as she saw him didn't wane. At least the pain in his arm had subsided substantially. So, with trepidation mounting, he knocked tentatively on her bedroom door a little after her usual breakfast tray was delivered.  
>"Come in!" her voice drifted dreamily through the large wooden door of her bedroom.<br>He walked in, shutting the door quietly behind him. He could see Arabella, curled up in a blanket on the sofa before an empty fireplace, her breakfast tray half finished on the coffee table before her, a book in one hand, balanced precariously on her knee, a mug in the other. A soft breeze caused the gauzy curtains to flutter, as she had left the balcony doors open.  
>He took a seat beside her, just as a mug of coffee arrived from the kitchens for him. He picked up the novel he'd left on the side table after departing just a few hours ago, though to her it had been two nights ago. He attempted to read, but found too easily his thoughts wondering around inside his brain, searching for someplace normal. Everything seemed out of place now that he was a Death Eater. Life would never be "back" to normal, he knew, just a "new normal." His thoughts hadn't figured that out yet.<br>"Good morning," Arabella finally broke the silence as she looked away from her book to steal a bite of the muffin that lay dilapidated on the tray.  
>"Good morning," Draco replied, beginning the chapter again in hopes of finding a place to launch back into the story.<br>They read in silence for a quarter of an hour. Every so often one of them would shift. Draco began stealing bites of the bacon she'd left untouched on her plate, finally coming to the conclusion that the house elves only included the bacon on Arabella's breakfast trays because they knew he would be there to eat it.  
>"You are rather quiet this morning," Arabella said suddenly.<br>Draco grunted. Arabella shrugged. And they returned to silence.  
>After reading all morning, Arabella finally dressed and they went downstairs for lunch. They talked very little, but returned to her room after dining with Draco's parents to play a game of Exploding Snap.<br>"Your mother was rather tense at lunch, wasn't she?" Arabella asked as they climbed the stairs.  
>"Hm? I didn't notice," Draco replied nonchalantly. He could sense Arabella eyeing him suspiciously.<br>"Is everything alright?"  
>"Everything is fine."<br>"I didn't see you yesterday," she commented, pressing the issue.  
>"No, you didn't."<br>She sniffed at his lack of response. She didn't know it, but she was going to have to get used to Draco disappearing every once and a while for Death Eater business. He wasn't going to be at her beck and call. Not that she ever desired his presence before. And even more, he wouldn't be able to provide her with explanations anymore. And, in his mind, it wasn't even worth it to make up false excuses.  
>They were halfway through their 7th game of Exploding Snap, and Draco was wiping the floor with Arabella. She was discouraged, Draco was cocky, and a card ended up exploding unexpectedly between turns (a rare, but not unheard of occurrence). They were both so startled they jumped back, then realizing their unfounded fear burst out laughing simultaneously. Arabella leaned forward and squeezed Draco's arm affectionately at their shared mirth. The left one. The one that was still paining him and burning him. The one that he was hiding from her and the rest of the world. He involuntarily pulled away.<br>"I'm sorry!" Arabella retreated suddenly, much to Draco's dismay. Any other day he would revel at her touch. Even today, just not on that arm.  
>"No, you're fine," he shook his head, hoping his flinching hadn't given him away. "I was just startled."<br>Arabella eyed him, looking at his arm intently.  
>"Honestly, love, it's nothing," Draco said, utilizing one of her hated pet names in an attempt to distract her. But she just continued to stare.<p>

"Draco?" her voice was soft and low as she shifted her position on the floor. "Is everything okay?"

"I just said it was, didn't I?" his response was curt.

"You just seem on edge."

"I'm just tired. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."

She continued to regard him suspiciously, until Draco began stacking the cards back in their box. After a moment or two, which had Draco sweating, nervous she'd discovered his secret, she began to help him.

"How about we have Trinky bring the tea tray and then we start a puzzle?" she suggested suddenly.

Draco couldn't help but smile, which he hid by keeping his head bent. Arabella was being very accommodating, considering her previous reluctance to do anything but read silently in his presence.

"I'd like that very much."


End file.
